Ada scrambled to her feet. ‘I come round earlier to see if I was needed today. Millie was fretting about losing a day’s money, so I said I’d stay with Dolly while she went off to the market.’
Dolly opened her eyes and sat bolt upright. ‘Is that you, Ted?’
‘She’s had one of her bad days,’ Ada whispered. ‘Keeps asking for Ted and getting upset when he don’t come. I give her a spoonful of laudanum, but it seems the more she has, the more she wants.’
‘It’s all right, Ada,’ Eliza said, taking off her bonnet and shawl and laying them on a chair. ‘You go on home and I’ll see to her.’
‘I’ll do that, ducks. And thanks for sorting things out for my Mary.’
‘It was nothing, really.’ Eliza couldn’t look Ada in the eye as her tender conscience gave her a mighty jab. She had put Mary’s job in jeopardy, and she had purchased a gown for herself at a price that would have fed the Little family for a week. She longed to rush upstairs and try it on, but respect for Ada made her hold back. She doubted if Ada had ever owned a garment or a pair of boots that had not come second-hand from a dolly shop or a market stall.
‘Well, don’t look so glum, Liza,’ Ada said with a weary smile. ‘I’m sure you done your best.’
‘Is that you, Liza?’ Dolly reached for her spectacles. ‘It is you. What have you got there?’
Eliza shook her head. ‘Just an old dress, Mum.’
‘Let’s see it then.’ Ada’s eyes brightened. ‘It’s time you had something decent to wear, Liza.’
Reluctantly, Eliza pulled the dress from the butter muslin wrapping and held it up for them to see.
‘I had a dress that colour once,’ Dolly said, sighing. ‘Ted says it makes me eyes look like cornflowers.’
‘It’s beautiful.’ Ada clasped her hands together, her eyes shining. ‘Go and put it on, Liza. Let’s see how you look in it.’
‘And fetch my blue gown too,’ Dolly said, giggling. ‘I’ll dress up for Ted when he comes
back from work. He likes me in blue, with ribbons in me hair. I were dressed like that when he took me to tea at Buckingham Palace. Her majesty said I looked a real treat, she did.’
Eliza hesitated, but Ada gave her an encouraging smile.
‘Don’t mind her, ducks. I’ll keep her company while you try on that lovely dress.’
Minutes later, Eliza came slowly down the stairs, treading carefully so that she did not trip over the hem of the gown, which was several inches too long, but otherwise fitted perfectly.
Ada held up her hands and although she was smiling, her eyes were misted with tears. ‘You look so beautiful, Liza. I could cry at the sight of you.’
‘Here, take it off,’ Dolly said, removing her specs and throwing them on the floor. ‘That’s my dress, Eliza. The one I wore to tea at the palace. Did I ever tell you about that? We had jam sandwiches and seed cake. Strawberry jam it were and I can still taste it. There’s a stain on the skirt, you can’t miss it.’
‘I’d better go up and change,’ Eliza said, gathering up the voluminous skirts. ‘I’m just upsetting her all over again.’
‘Tell me about her majesty,’ Ada said, going to sit beside Dolly and taking hold of her hand. ‘What did she say to you then, Dolly?’
Eliza made for the stairs but the sound of the
front door being flung open made her spin around in time to see Millie stagger into the living room and collapse on the nearest chair. Ragged skeins of blood ran from her nose and there were livid scratches on both cheeks. Her shawl was torn almost in two and her blouse was ripped from shoulder to waist, exposing the swell of her firm young breasts above her stays.
‘Millie, what happened?’ Forgetting all about her new gown, Eliza rushed over to her, tripping over the long skirts in her hurry. She put her arms round Millie’s trembling shoulders and hugged her. ‘There, there, don’t cry, love.’
Ada leapt to her feet, covering her mouth with her hands. ‘Who done that to you?’
‘It were the flower women. They ganged up on me when I tried to set up a pitch at the bottom of the steps outside St Paul’s.’
Dolly let out a wail and began to sob, rocking backwards and forwards in her chair.
‘That’s terrible,’ Eliza said, stroking Millie’s hair back from her face. ‘Why did they do such a dreadful thing?’
‘They was a new lot that I hadn’t seen afore. They said I was queering their pitch. Said I didn’t belong there. Told me to push off and not to come back. They stamped all me flowers into the ground and I’d not sold a one. I’m s-sorry, Liza.’
‘It wasn’t your fault, dear. I should never have let you go in the first place.’
‘I’ll fetch a cold compress for your nose,’ Ada said, hurrying into the scullery.
Dolly stopped crying, and leaned forward peering at Millie. ‘Is she coughing up blood? Has the young woman got consumption, Liza?’
‘It’s Millie. She’s had a little accident. There’s nothing to worry about.’
‘Give her a dose of my medicine. It always works wonders for me, dear.’ Dolly leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. ‘It works wonders.’
Ada hurried back into the room clutching a wet rag, which she applied to Millie’s nose. ‘Hold that there, ducks. It looks worse than it is.’
‘Does it hurt much?’ Eliza asked anxiously, but before Mary could answer there was a loud rapping on the front door.
‘Someone’s in a hurry,’ Ada muttered.
‘I’ll go.’ Eliza hurried to open the door and found herself face to face with Brandon Miller.
‘Good grief. What happened here?’ Brandon peered over her shoulder.
‘I can’t speak to you now,’ Eliza said, barring his way. ‘I’m sorry but this ain’t a convenient time. You can’t come in.’
She barely came up to his shoulder and her attempt to stop him viewing the scene failed miserably. Taking off his top hat, Brandon tucked it under his arm. ‘I need to talk to you, Eliza. Of course, I can shout through the
letterbox, but the whole street is watching us even now.’
Reluctantly, she stood aside. ‘Come in if you must.’
‘I’ve had more enthusiastic welcomes,’ Brandon said, stepping over the threshold. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me, Eliza?’
‘Mr Miller, this ain’t your mum’s front parlour, and if you had any sense at all you’d see that we got a difficult situation here.’
Brandon glanced at Millie, raising an eyebrow. ‘You look as if you’ve come to grief, Miss – er …’
‘Millie Turner,’ Millie murmured, holding the rag to her nose.
Eliza didn’t like the way Brandon’s gaze wandered to Millie’s exposed breasts and, snatching up her shawl, she draped it over her. ‘She’s been done over by them bleeding flower women outside St Paul’s. How them wicked doxies got the nerve to sell flowers outside a holy place I’ll never know, but Millie’s fallen foul of them and this is what they’ve done to her.’
Brandon shook his head, frowning. ‘What could a girl like this have done to provoke such a cruel act?’
‘Life’s like that round here, Mr Miller. Maybe people don’t behave like that in Oxford, but this is the East End and times are hard for poor folk.’ Firmly placing herself between Brandon and
Millie, Eliza met his bemused gaze with a defiant lift of her chin.
‘I’m beginning to realise that, Eliza.’
Dolly opened her eyes and stared at Brandon. ‘Is that Prince Albert come to visit us?’
‘Of course he ain’t the prince,’ Ada said, hurrying to her side. ‘The poor prince died a few years back. You remember it, Dolly. And her majesty’s been in mourning ever since, that’s why she don’t invite you to the palace no more.’
‘That’s true,’ Dolly said, nodding her head. ‘So if you ain’t Albert, who are you, young man?’
‘Is that woman completely off her head?’ demanded Brandon, raising an eyebrow. ‘I say, Eliza, you never told me you lived in a madhouse.’
‘That woman, as you call her, took me in as a child and cared for me like a mother,’ Eliza hissed, taking him by the arm and pulling him towards the door. ‘I’ll thank you not to come here and insult Dolly. She’s a sick woman.’
‘My dear Eliza, I’m sorry if I offended you yet again. I’ve obviously called at a bad time.’
‘Tell the rude young man to go back to the palace,’ Dolly said, wagging her finger at Brandon. ‘I’d expect the Prince of Wales to have more respect for an old woman. Tell him to ask his mother to send me an invite soon. I got a terrible longing for a slice of seed cake.’
Ada patted her hand. ‘We’ll send the message,
Dolly. But her majesty’s got lots of other things to attend to. Ain’t that right, your highness?’
Brandon was staring at Ada and Dolly as if he was watching a Punch and Judy show and Eliza nudged him in the ribs. ‘You’ll do that, won’t you, Prince Edward?’
‘God above, this really is a madhouse,’ Brandon said, opening the front door. ‘I’d best be going.’
Eliza followed him out into the street. ‘You haven’t said why you come.’
‘I came,’ Brandon said, with heavy emphasis on the words, ‘I came to invite you to attend a meeting at the office tomorrow morning at halfpast nine. My father wants to discuss business with you.’
‘I’ll be there.’
Brandon paused, looking Eliza up and down until she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. ‘Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to stare, Mr Miller?’
‘It’s Brandon, as well you know.’ He took her hand in his, looking deeply into her eyes. ‘One day, my dear, I mean to take you away from this hellhole. I’d like to set you up in a style worthy of your looks and undoubted talents.’
The hot look in his eyes was matched by the seductive tone in his voice, and his meaning was all too clear. The sound of Eliza’s hand slapping Brandon’s face echoed from house to house in
the narrow street. Red weals striped his cheek, but Eliza was unrepentant. ‘Talk to me like that again and I’ll tell your father what an ungentle-manly rat he has for a son.’ Eliza went inside the house and slammed the door. Tending Millie was uppermost in her mind now; whatever Aaron Miller had to say to her paled in comparison to the hurt that Millie had endured, and all for the sake of a few coppers.
Next morning, wearing her new gown on which she had worked last evening, taking up the hem with minute stitches so that it now just grazed the tips of her toes, Eliza arrived early at the offices of Miller and Son. This time there was no question of having to sit in the waiting room, and she was shown straight into the oak-panelled boardroom where portraits of Aaron and Anne Miller stared down at her from a lofty height. As the clerk closed the door on her, Eliza stood for a moment, taking in the grandeur of the room and staring in wonder at the polished mahogany table that was long enough to seat twelve men on either side. At its head, and presumably for Aaron himself, was a chair that looked to Eliza like a carved mahogany throne, its seat padded with crimson velvet. Pale autumn sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows, reflecting prisms of colour onto the highly polished surface of the table. Eliza was just catching her
breath at this magnificence when Brandon made an entrance. He came straight up to her, took her hand and kissed it. ‘I apologise for my behaviour yesterday, Eliza. It was unforgivable.’
‘It was.’
‘Nevertheless, I hope you will forgive me.’ Brandon’s eyes twinkled, and his mouth curved in a rueful smile that was hard to resist.
Eliza snatched her hand free but she nodded in assent. ‘I will, as long as you promise not to speak to me like that again or make cruel jokes about Dolly.’
‘Cross my heart and hope to die, painfully and slowly in the torture chamber at the Tower if I renege on my promise.’ Brandon made a big show of crossing his heart and the golden glints danced in his dark eyes, making it almost impossible for Eliza to hold on to her anger.
She struggled with the temptation to smile. ‘And you’d deserve it too.’
‘I agree entirely.’
The door opened and Aaron came towards them with a purposeful look on his craggy face. His dark eyes were like Brandon’s in size and shape, but the expression in them was shrewd, calculating, and as he looked at Eliza she was certain that he could read her thoughts. His lips smiled but his eyes were hard. ‘Brandon, I want a word with Miss Eliza in private.’
Brandon’s eyes widened as if this was the last thing he was expecting. ‘But, Father …’
‘In private, I said.’
‘Yes, Father.’
As Brandon left the boardroom, Eliza had a vision of him as a puppy having had a scolding from its master and retreating with its tail between its legs, but the stern look on Aaron’s face subdued any desire she might have had to giggle.
‘Sit down, Miss Eliza.’ Aaron took his seat in the chair at the head of the table. ‘Please.’
Eliza pulled out a chair and sat down. Something was wrong: was he angry with her for leaving the dinner party so early? She folded her hands tightly in her lap and raised her chin to look Aaron in the eyes. ‘If you’ve got anything to say, Mr Miller, I’d rather you come straight out with it.’
‘That’s how I always do business, Eliza.’ Aaron leaned his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers and fixing her with a basilisk stare. ‘My good friend Brigham Stone tells me that you went to him, behind my back, offering to supply his ships at a better rate than the one which you and I agreed. He said that when he refused you propositioned him, offering him your favours in return for his business.’
Shocked by this cruel injustice, Eliza gasped. She felt as though the air had been sucked from
her lungs; she was shaking from head to foot, but somehow she managed to retain eye contact. ‘That,’ she said, in as firm a voice as she could manage, ‘is a wicked lie.’
For a moment, although it felt like a lifetime to Eliza, Aaron held her gaze. Eliza stared back, not daring to breathe. She wanted to scream and shout that Brigham was a lying cheat and a would-be seducer of young women, but she held her tongue.
At last, a slow smile curved Aaron’s lips and his eyes twinkled. ‘I thought as much, but I wanted to hear it from you.’
Drawing a deep breath, Eliza felt dizzy, elated and angry all at the same time. ‘Then why put me through all this if you didn’t believe him in the first place?’
‘I’m a good enough judge of men to know when someone, even an old friend and colleague like Brigham, is telling me a pack of lies. I was testing your mettle, my dear, and I wasn’t disappointed. Most young women when falsely accused would have resorted to screaming hysterics and protestations of innocence. You kept your head and outfaced me. Not many people can do that.’