ON THE WAY BACK TO her lodgings that night – if she could call them lodgings, given that Belinda was still steadfastly refusing to take any payment – she bought loaves of bread and half a wheel of cheese. The bread was the last of the loaves from that day, and was grey and misshapen, but she was greeted like a conquering hero when she offered it around the people congregated back in the rooms. Juliet made tea for her, and a woman who sold watercress on the streets carved up the cheese so that everyone could have some. Belinda sat on the floor in front of the range, but Marianne was urged onto the end of a bench, next to Kathleen.

  An ancient, poor woman called Mrs Campbell was the other side of Kathleen. There were two young girls, one on a stool and the other on the floor, who had been rescued by Belinda before they fell into the clutches of brothels or worse, and their new mentor Edith who was showing them how to plait straw into bonnets, make little knick-knacks, and create wreathes from discarded flowers after the flower markets had packed up for the day.

  The eight of them huddled close to the range. The two rooms were also home to a handful more, but they were still out at work or perhaps visiting others. Once the food had been eaten, and the first round of tea drunk, Marianne made the most of the convivial and relaxed atmosphere, and asked if anyone had heard of Miss Caroline Vane.

  Everyone shook their heads. But Juliet gave her a sharp look. “You were lately asking about some girls, Eliza and whoever else. Then you was asking about her – that Mistress Decker – so what now, about this Caroline Vane? What are you up to, Ivy?”

  Belinda tried to intervene. “Juliet, everyone has their own story but it’s up to them to choose when they want to tell it. Ivy can live here in perfect confidence.” But she warned Marianne by adding, “And I am sure Ivy respects the safety she has found here, and won’t disturb the peace.”

  “I apologise,” Marianne said, and let the matter drop.

  But it did not drop.

  As she had hoped, she had planted seeds in people’s heads. She knew that Juliet would not speak to her – she had shown she was scared of whoever she thought Mistress Decker was. But later that evening, as people were retiring to bed, if you could call a blanket on the ground or a raised wooden platform a bed, one of the new young women sidled up to Marianne. Marianne was just on her way out to use the lavatory, although as usual there was a long queue. Still, it was a huge and unusual bonus to have such a thing indoors, and she didn’t mind waiting, because she wasn’t having to wait outside in the cold like most people did – unless they used a chamber pot, which was excruciatingly embarrassing in a shared room, although a few of the residents seemed to notice no shame about it.

  Maybe you had to be born to it.

  Marianne smiled at the young girl, who stood close to her in the line of people on the corridor. She had a large gap between her front teeth, and freckles, and an innocent expression on her fourteen-year-old face that had made her a prime target for pimps and madams, and men with no honour.

  “Flo, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, miss.”

  “Have you heard of Caroline Vane?”

  “No, I ain’t, miss.”

  “Oh.” Marianne knew that the disappointment must have shown on her face. She smiled anyway. “Well, if you do, please let me know.”

  “I will, miss. Thing is, I have heard of that Decker woman. You want to stay away from her, though.”

  “Why, exactly?”

  “Everyone says so, that’s why. They say she’s an elephant.”

  Marianne couldn’t help but laugh at that. “She’s a large lady, is she?”

  “I don’t really mean that, more that...”

  The woman in front of Marianne turned around and spat out a hushing sound. “You have no business in talking of things that you know nothing about, the pair of you.” She had a fresh injury; one black eye, purple and livid, and that added an air of intimidation to her. Flo immediately clamped her mouth shut and turned away.

  Marianne didn’t want to press the matter and cause problems. She’d had her warning from Belinda. She was not to disturb the peace.

  She smiled politely at the black-eyed woman, who sneered and looked away.

  At least she knew one more thing about this Mistress Decker now. She wasn’t a slender, small woman.

  MARIANNE TUTTED AND rolled her eyes and folded her arms and unfolded them, and strode up and down the street outside the four blocks that made up the Blackwall Buildings, humming and trying to stay warm.

  Adelia was late.

  And time ticked on, and she grew later and later.

  Marianne did not want to worry. In fact, she thought that Adelia had been neglecting her real, everyday job rather too much lately, and it was likely that she had remembered a sudden deadline or been sent to cover a particular story for the newspaper. Adelia should have sent word, of course, but maybe she had been too busy or she’d sent a note with an unreliable street child, who’d got lost or distracted or who had not bothered to complete their task.

  Maybe.

  The smog was thick today, and brisk walking brought on a fit of coughing. She’d never considered herself particularly weak of constitution but since living in Whitechapel, sleeping in such unhealthy miasmas and eating a poor diet of rough bread and unidentifiable pies, she had felt her once-strong body start to unravel. She longed to eat vegetables. Her hips were continually aching now, and had started to click when she climbed stairs. Her lungs were sore and she was developing a cough. She wasn’t as bad as Kathleen, not yet. It could only be a matter of time.

  They said that finely-bred ladies suffered more if they descended in the world, as their bodies were not fitted for the same lifestyle as poorer folk. Marianne wasn’t as finely-bred as some, but she was suffering, and it had taken her by surprise. She’d assumed she was as strong as an ox.

  She slapped her arms against her body and paced up and down as the minutes wore on. She walked to the far end of the street and looked up and down, trying to spot Adelia in the bustle of the area, but all was a sea of brown and grey that was swallowed up far too soon by the all-encompassing fog.

  It was like dusk yet it was mid-morning.

  Eventually she gave up, and retreated back inside. Adelia knew where to find her, after all, and it made no sense to freeze outside.

  Midday came and went. There was no sign of Adelia.

  And now Marianne began to worry.

  A few hours later, and she could contain herself no more. She wrapped the cloak around herself, and wore the bonnet that raised her up in status just a little, though she wore a shawl under the cloak in case she needed to affect a quick disguise. She strode out into the teeming streets, looking this way and that, desperate to catch a glimpse of her friend. She knew where she lived, and she headed in that direction first. It was a walk of a little over two miles, just a half hour at a very brisk pace.

  She had only gone a quarter of a mile when a figure came flying down the street towards her, elbowing people out of the way, her ribbons streaming behind her.

  It was Adelia, and she was gasping with exertion and almost in tears.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Adelia was in such a state that she nearly ran right past Marianne without seeing her, so intent was she on getting away – or getting to – somewhere. Marianne reached out and grabbed her arm, shouting a greeting, as Adelia tore past her. She wrenched herself out of Marianne’s grip but came to a halt a few paces on, and turned in confusion.

  “Oh! Marianne, I was just coming to see you.”

  “And I was looking for you. No wonder we have met here. I was on my way to your lodgings. What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Come here! Let’s get out of the crowd.”

  People were looking at them, hoping for some entertainment on this gloomy day, but Adelia and Marianne put their arms around one another’s waists and pushed their way to a side street. It was one of London’s innumerable, nameless alleys, only about seven feet wide. The walls were pasted with posters but there was hardly any rubbish, as the street urchins had raided absolutely everything possible that could be repurposed or sold in some way. Even dog mess was taken and sold to the tanners and leatherworkers. Still, the dark alley smelled and they didn’t go far into its depths. Something moved at the far end, near a doorway, and it could have been a tiny child or a huge rat; it sniffed and huffed, and that didn’t sound promising.

  “Now, calm down. Get your breath back. Here, I have a handkerchief.” Marianne’s tasselled bag was hidden under her cloak, and she ferreted around in it until she produced a lace-edged square of cotton. It was the cleanest thing she had.

  “Thank you.” Adelia took it and dabbed at her face, and took some deep breaths, and looked up, blowing out her cheeks. “Whew. Well. I am so sorry, Marianne. I should have listened to you. I may have ruined everything.” Her voice wobbled a little and she didn’t make eye contact. “I am so, so sorry...”

  “Tell me exactly what has happened.”

  “You should be reassuring me that everything will be well.”

  “I’ll do that once I know what’s happened,” Marianne said. She was concerned for her friend but she couldn’t disguise her annoyance, too. She had told her not to meddle without care.

  Adelia sniffed and patted at her nose. Marianne decided she didn’t need the handkerchief back. “I went to speak to Harry Vane.”

  “Directly to the man himself?”

  “Yes, but he doesn’t know me, or know of my association with you, so I thought that it would be fine. It was not. He thought that I was you, at first.”

  “What?”

  “We are the same height and a similar build, and there was something about him, something ... I don’t know. Let me tell you how it happened. I had discovered his favourite club and I waited outside, hoping to catch him, as I had heard he went there most mornings to have breakfast and to read the papers and so on. However, the day wore on, and yet he did not emerge.”

  “This was this morning?” Marianne asked.

  “Yes. Eventually I slipped the doorman a coin to ask him to give Vane a note, which requested his presence outside. Vane appeared very quickly, and looked anxious, and seemed reluctant to step out of the club. I was waiting on the opposite side of the road, watching him before I made myself known to him. He was about to go back in, so I dashed across the road – nearly lost my life to an omnibus, the dratted things – and called to him. He turned and said, first, ‘Miss Starr?’ and then looked again and frowned as he realised I was not you. But don’t you think that’s curious?”

  “It is something,” Marianne agreed. “Although the fog is bad today. What then?”

  “I told him that my name was Miss Smith.”

  “And he believed you?”

  “He had no reason not to, except that the doorman who was standing behind him laughed, and that made Vane suspicious. No doubt he will have asked the doorman who I really was, and will know by now. I had not thought to use subterfuge with the doorman and had automatically introduced myself. Still, that should not matter, should it?”

  “Maybe. People do know that we keep company together.”

  “Oh, I am so sorry,” Adelia said again, fighting a fresh fit of sobbing. “And then it got worse, of course. I am so stupid! It is a wonder Jack ever looked twice at me. I am ...”

  “No, stop this. It’s no excuse for a descent into self-pity and anyway, Jack is attracted to your other qualities.”

  “Which are?”

  “Adelia, focus! Tell me first what has happened between you and Vane. Did he hurt you or threaten you in any way?”

  “Once the doorman had given away that I was using a false name, Vane grew angry, and shook his fist at me. He demanded to know who I really was, and what I wanted with him. I tried to tell him a lie. I said that I was seeking help for my marriage, with my husband – that he was spending all of his money on quacks and fakes, and I needed to prove to him that he was being tricked.”

  “He didn’t believe you, did he?”

  “No. He grabbed me and tore my glove from my left hand, and pointed, and said that there had never been a wedding ring on that hand and that hopefully there never would be!”

  “The cad. The monster. Did the doorman stand by and do nothing while you were violated like that?”

  “Yes, I have to say that he did intervene, after a fashion. He stepped between us, and told me to leave.”

  “What – he did not strike Vane, as he should have done, if he were any kind of honourable man?”

  “He did not. I rather feel that I was considered to be the problem, not Vane. I pushed at the doorman and reached around him to grab my glove back, and screamed at him a little, for what else was I to do?”

  “Indeed,” said Marianne. “You were quite right.”

  “But that angered Vane and he came around the doorman, who was still urging me to leave, and he got very close to my face and said, ‘You are clearly in with that Starr woman, are you not?’ and I told him I didn’t know what he meant and he spat to one side like a common navvy, and reached out as if to grab me again, telling me that it was a shame no one would marry a harridan like me because I needed the discipline of a man in my life.”

  “I am feeling more and more sorry for Caroline,” Marianne said. “I hope that you got away at this point.”

  “I did. I fled, crying, and did not look back. But he knows. He knew I was there on your behalf, and he is scared of something, because why was his first thought, when he saw me, that I was you?”

  “It is very strange. But first, let us see to you. You have had a terrible shock. I wish,” Marianne said carefully, “I wish that you had not gone.”

  “You told me not to. This is my own fault and I do not deserve sympathy, I know.”

  “Stop that, right now. Although you were wrong to go – I won’t sugar my words there – he was utterly wrong to behave as he did, and that doorman is no better. You have suffered more than you deserved and you do not need to berate yourself any more. Now, where are we? We are closer to your lodgings than mine, and yours are considerably more comfortable. I am tolerably in disguise. Let us get you home.”

  Adelia submitted to Marianne. She allowed herself to be led home, and they shared a pot of weak tea. Adelia seemed calmer when Marianne left her at last.

  But when Marianne stepped out of the front door and onto the darkening afternoon street, she felt eyes on her, watching her from every corner.

  It was more than just her imagination, she was sure of it.

  She pulled the cloak around her and scurried along, taking a circuitous route home. She wanted to jump into a horse-drawn omnibus but she didn’t dare risk being trapped in a small space. Who knew who the other passengers might be! She watched around, carefully but subtly, and caught glimpses of people hiding from her, pressing themselves behind the corners of walls or disappearing beyond a passing horse and cab. Was it her imagination?

  She was winding herself up into a frenzy, she knew.

  And her anxious state was not eased when she finally turned onto the street that led her to the Blackwall Buildings. The fish factory stench filled her nostrils. It always took her by surprise if she had been away for a few hours, and she wrapped her shawl around her neck and face, preferring to breathe in stale sweat.

  One of the urchins jumped out at her. He was swaddled in layers of brown and grey, but his feet were bare, and almost marble-white with cold, where she could see patches of skin in between the dirt and filth caked on. “Charles?” she hazarded, as she could only see his eyes.

  He pulled down the gauzy thin mesh that was wrapped around his lower face. “Miss Ivy, we have a message for you.”

  “From whom?”

  “Get that. Listen to you! From whom! Who from, is what you mean.”

  “Who from, Charles?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Where is it?”

  “What?”

  “The note.”

  “Ain’t no note. Just a message. They said to tell you that your friend is poking into stuff what she ought not to, and that she ought to be careful.”

  “Do they mean Adelia?”

  “The one what looks a bit like you. Are you sisters?”

  “No, we’re not, but they must mean Adelia. Who said this to you?” Marianne said, looming over Charles.

  “Some woman.”

  “Is that all you can tell me?” she cried, desperately.

  He shrugged, completely unintimidated by her. “It’s all I know. So it’s all I can say.”

  “Is this to do with Harry Vane?”

  “Who?” His face showed no recognition. “I ain’t sure it is anything to do with a man. Them women work alone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that. Also they said I was to get sixpence off you for this.”

  “They sent you to me with a warning and I am expected to pay you for this warning?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Good God. How mercenary.” She fished out a ha’penny and handed it over. “You are not worth sixpence.”

  “I know, but it was worth me asking. This is more than I expected. Thought I’d just get a black eye for the cheek.” He pocketed the coin, grinned, and dashed away.

  Marianne realised that she had been played for a fool at the end, but the rest of his information had to be true.

  And she felt a pang of guilt as she trudged the last few steps to the Blackwall Buildings. Adelia had become a target. She was partly to blame, of course; Marianne had not wanted her to speak to Vane on her behalf.

  But even so, the line of responsibility traced itself all the way back to Marianne. She had to keep herself safe. And she had to persuade Adelia to stay out of things, too.

  For her own sake.

  And for the safety of everyone that Marianne loved.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The women she had encountered before, Cecilia and her friends, who had taken her on a spree of theft and stealing, had promised to be in touch. Marianne did not have to wait any longer. That evening, as people made their way back to the lodgings before the gates were locked, someone came in with a note for “Ivy.”

 

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