Charles Palliser (75 page)

In the near-darkness I could not establish whether her cheeks were lightly rouged or if they were red with consciousness. We both found it difficult to speak.

At last she said with dignity: “I hope you will not reproach me for having betrayed you and your mother when I was commissioned to go to Sir Perceval. I am quite innocent of that at least.”

“I know you arc.”

She looked at me with surprise.

I answered: “I have recently learned something which puts that incident in a quite different light. I will explain in a moment, but please tell me first what news you have of my mother. I have lost her.”

She gazed at me for a moment: “I am afraid the news is not good.”

“You don’t mean … ?”

“Oh no. She is alive and well. Or reasonably so. Let me tell you what happened. I went to Sir Perceval and spoke to him and Lady Mompeason. They responded as your mother had anticipated. Their man of affairs, Mr THE COMING OF AGE

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Barbellion, was summoned to accompany me back to our lodgings with a large sum of money in bank-notes for the purchase of the document. When I found you had both fled

— and remember that I had no notion why — Mr Barbellion was very angry at the futility of the visit I had led him upon. 1 owe it to myself to state that he gave me nothing.

Now I was left destitute. I sold the few articles left in the room. Some of them were your mother’s and I owe you money for your share, but I cannot pay you for despite these gorgeous clothes I have nothing. finally I decided to come to this house and accept Mrs Purviance’s hospitality.”

I thought she shuddered slightly.

“It is better than the alternative. I am at least protected.”

“And what of my mother?”

“Two weeks ago I saw her briefly.”

“Where?”

She looked at me gravely: “In this house.”

I turned away in pain.

“Do not blame her,” Miss Quilliam went on. “She came to Mrs Purviance to ask her for help. She met me in the hall and reproached me for having betrayed her. I was astonished by her words, but I saw that it was best to leave her without attempting to defend myself. I think she came in all innocence believing that Mrs Purviance would give her food and shelter out of charity. Mrs Purviance told me she had been left with nothing after being cheated and lied to by people she believed were her friends.”

“Where is she now?”

“Mrs Purviance has another house nearby. So far as I know, she is still there.”

“Please tell me the address.”

“No. 12 East-Harding-street.”

She saw my anxiety to be gone and said, as a kind of farewell: “I am glad your mother will know that I did not betray her. I only wish I had money to give you. But I have none.

I am only not starving. If I had more I would leave, and Mrs Purviance knows that very well.”

“May I find you here again?” I asked.

“I will help you and your mother as far as I am able to,” she replied. “But I fear it may be out of my power soon. Mrs Purviance wishes me to go to Paris. I am entirely in her hands now.”

We shook hands and I left. As swiftly as I could I found my way to East-Harding-street and took up my station opposite No. 12. After some time I saw a well-dressed and lady-like young woman leave the house, accompanied by a maid-servant. As they walked up the street the servant fell further and further behind her until as they turned the corner they seemed to have no connexion. Another half-hour passed and then a second young woman came to the house accompanied by a gentleman. They rang the bell and were quickly admitted. The door was held open after them and a man who looked like a servant out of livery and who appeared to have been following them, slipped in before it closed.

It was getting dark and as I watched and waited, the lamp-lighter began to make his way slowly along the street carrying his ladder laboriously from post to post. Now a third young woman arrived accompanied like the last by a gentleman and again followed at a distance — this time by an old woman. The gentleman who had accompanied the second woman left the house. Some

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time later the woman herself left followed by the man-servant. By this time I had seen enough.

Then another couple came down the street and turned up the steps. It was difficult in this light and at this distance to see clearly, but I thought I recognised the figure despite the unfamiliar clothes. I quickly crossed the street and went to the foot of the steps as the gentleman rang the bell. The woman wore beneath her coat a silk dress, she had a fine bonnet and carried an elegant umbrella and steel-chain reticule. They both had their backs to me as they waited for the door to be opened. The gentleman leaned close to the lady and whispered something. I heard in response a kind of coquettish laugh —

ghastly in its bright falseness, but particularly ghastly to me.

“Mamma,” I said.

A face of horror was turned to me: the eyes unnaturally bright, the eyebrows painted and the cheeks inexpertly rouged. Beneath the paint and powder I could see that her cheeks were thin and her eyes feverish.

She backed away from me a few steps holding one arm up half-shielding her face:

“Johnnie!” she cried.

As I looked at her in the light of a nearby street-lamp, I seemed to see her both as a stranger — so garishly dressed and made-up — and yet more penetratingly than ever before.

“What are you doing in London?” she exclaimed.

I believe she registered only the fact that it was I, and that I was not several hundred miles away. She did not notice how poorly I was clad.

“Leave me,” she said. “Go back to where you are safe.”

I shook my head, unable to speak.

“Leave me,” she moaned. “I am not your mother now.”

“What is going on?” said the gentleman. “Who is this boy?”

At that moment the door was opened by a severe-looking maid-servant of middle years.

“Will you come in,” she said, more as a command than an invitation.

The gentleman hesitated and made as if to enter.

“Go back to the school,” my mother said and began to turn away to go in.

I stepped forward and seized her arm.

“Come with me,” I said. “You do not need to go in there.”

“What is this charade?” the gentleman asked angrily.

“Come in, Miss Marigold,” the maid said sharply.

My mother hesitated, looking at me with an expression of timidity and shame.

“You know what I have become?”

She struggled for breath.

“Dearest,” I said. “Dearest mother, we will go away from here.”

“Will you come in,” said the servant angrily.

“No,” said my mother.

“I don’t understand this,” said the gentleman, raising his voice angrily, “but I believe it is some trick to …

“What is going on here, Annie?” said Mrs Purviance, appearing suddenly behind the maid. “I will not have a scene in the street.”

“She won’t come in,” said the maid.

“I see,” said Mrs Purviance. Her eyes fell on me and I believe she took in THE COMING OF AGE

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the meaning of the tableau instantly. To my surprise, she looked beyond us out into the gloom of the street and called softly: “Edward!”

Instantly a tall man who must have been lurking a few yards off, came up the steps behind us.

Seeing him the gentleman turned and began to descend the steps. “It’s high time I was out of this,” he said.

“Wait, I beg you, my dear sir!” Mrs Purviance called, but he hurried down the steps and up the street. “Edward, bring her in and send the boy away,” she said softly.

“No, I’m never going back in there,” my mother cried. “Come, Johnnie.”

“Run, Mamma,” I cried.

She turned but Edward held out his arms to prevent her from descending the steps.

“Not with those clothes,” Mrs Purviance said.

She and the maid-servant seized my mother and as I moved forward to defend her Edward gripped me from behind so hard that my arms hurt.

“Bring the boy in!” Mrs Purviance ordered. “He’ll make too much noise out here.

We’ve already lost one guest.”

“Help!” my mother shouted.

“Quiet her,” hissed Mrs Purviance and the maid tried to cover her mouth with her hand.

“Don’t struggle, Mamma,” I said. “They only want your clothes.”

In truth, I was not sure that that was all they did want, but I was afraid of what they would do to quieten her if she continued to struggle. We were dragged into the hall and the door was slammed behind us. My mother, still gripped by the two women, was sobbing and crying out and, to my horror, Mrs Purviance now struck her sharply across the face. I struggled but could not break free of Edward’s grasp, one of whose hands was now clamped round my jaw to prevent me crying out.

“In there, quickly,” Mrs Purviance said, and we were hustled into a room that led off the hall.

She lit one low gas-light and then closed the door.

“Release them both,” she ordered, and my mother and I were let free. “Now, Miss Marigold,” she said, “I cannot believe you intend to leave the security of this house. You know what awaits you. You remember in what circumstances I found you?”

My mother sobbed.

“Well, do you?”

She nodded.

“You know that that will happen to you again if you leave the Rules and my protection,” Mrs Purviance went on. “Moreover, I gave security against your absconding and paid the necessary per centage of your debt. Have you forgotten that? Seventy pounds in total for the warrant of attorney and the payment to the Warden. How do you propose to repay me? You don’t think what you’ve earned for me nearly repays the expenses you’ve incurred, do you? Your board and lodging alone amount to a further twenty pounds. However, I am a generous woman. You may go if that is how you wish to repay my generosity to you at a time when you were destitute and in despair. But if you go, you leave here as you came: with nothing. Is that understood?”

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“Yes,” my mother whispered. “I wish to have nothing from this house. I wish I had never entered it. You deceived me, Mrs Purviance.”

“You would have died,” she said contemptuously. “Edward, stay here with the boy.

And Annie, go with her and make sure she leaves everything. Take what money you can find. All of it was given her by me. I must go and reassure the other guests in case they have heard anything.”

The three women went out leaving me with Edward who watched me carefully.

Seating himself by the door he pulled a newspaper from his pocket and held it towards the light.

After a few minutes he looked up, smiled and said: “Don’t you believe she was gulled into it. She knowed the trade.”

I stared at him with my heart pounding.

He ran his tongue around his lips and added with a smile: “I kin allus tell.”

I threw myself at him and tried to hit him, but he caught my fist and viciously wrenched my arm behind my back twisting it so that it was agony. Then he released me and I retreated a few steps screaming at him until I threw myself to the floor and thumped the carpet with rage and misery.

After a few minutes my mother came in again with Annie. Now she was dressed as the poorest servant-girl, but, grotesquely, she was still rouged and powdered.

Mrs Purviance came in a moment later:

“Did she leave everything?” she asked Annie.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And has nothing now?”

“Only a pocket-book of her own. But there ain’t no money in it.”

Mrs Purviance turned to my mother: “Let me see it.”

“No, it’s mine,” she protested.

Mrs Purviance glanced warningly towards Edward: “Show it to me,” she said.

My mother took the pocket-book I knew so well from inside her dress, unclasped it and held it up so that the pages fell open revealing that there was nothing inside. She was holding something in place with her thumb.

“What’s that?” Mrs Purviance asked.

“Just a letter and a map.”

Mrs Purviance looked at them closely.

“Very well,” she said.

“May we go now?” I asked, for Edward and Annie were still guarding the door.

“In a moment,” Mrs Purviance said impatiently. Then she addressed my mother: “I thought I had little to learn of the baseness of the human heart, but you have taught me another lesson in ingratitude, Miss Marigold. When you came to me with nothing I gave you food and clothing. More than that, I gave you my time and attention. I introduced you to company and gave you the means to better yourself. Yet this is how you repay me.”

My mother stood pale and wide-eyed before this onslaught.

“Come,” I said, taking her by the hand.

“Leave this district and you become an absconded prisoner,” Mrs Purviance said.

At a nod from their mistress the two servants opened the door, led us through the hall, and let us out of the street-door.

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It was quite dark now and although a steady drizzle was falling, the wind appeared to be rising. At the bottom of the steps my mother turned to me a timid, fearful face. I seized her and hugged her, kissing her cheek and covering my mouth with rouge. Then we looked at each other. She was pale and thin but her cheeks beneath the rouge seemed flushed with health.

I felt a strange kind of power at having her under my protection.

“I knew that at least you were safe,” she said. “I wasn’t brave enough to starve. I must tell you everything …”

“Later,” I said. “For now, we must find shelter.”

“I have no money,” she said.

“I have a little,” I said, but in fact it was only five-pence ha’penny.

We set off at hazard up the street.

After a few yards she stopped and looked at me curiously: “But why are you dressed like that? Why, you’re in rags!” Then in increasing anxiety she demanded: “What has happened to you? Why are you here in London?”

There would be time enough, I thought, to enter upon explanations that I knew would distress her.

“We must find shelter,” I insisted. “Night is coming on.”

“No, Johnnie,” she cried. “I must know your story. Look at you! You’re so thin!”