The Cockney Sparrow (25 page)

She checked the address on the card, just to make sure she was in the right place. She was uncomfortably aware of suspicious glances from both servants and their employers as she searched for number thirty-five. Passers-by gave her a wide berth, as if suspecting that she would beg for money or pick their pockets. Suddenly, her fingers began to itch, and the temptation to revert to the old way of life, on the dip, was almost too much for her. Serve the toffs right if
she did relieve them of a full purse or a wallet. What right had they to look down their noses at a poor boy? The wealthy patrons of the theatre had seen fit to clap their hands together at the end of her performances on stage, with their diamond rings flashing like tiny lightning strikes. They had cheered La Moineau and called for encore after encore. They had applauded her then, so why would they despise her now?

She counted the numbers on the grand buildings. Twenty-nine, thirty-one … there it was – a six-storey edifice that looked more like a palace than a home for ordinary mortals, or even someone like Jared Stone. She hesitated for a moment, hovering by the railings, and wondering whether to look for the servants’ entrance or to walk boldly up to the front door. Then, even as she stared at it, the door opened and a portly gentleman came slowly down the steps. Clemency’s first thought was that here was a wealthy cove. His clothes were impeccable and expensive; his black frock coat was unbuttoned, revealing a waistcoat with a heavy gold chain stretched across his fat belly. There would be a gold watch at the end of that chain, and, more than likely, a bulging wallet nestling in his inside breast pocket, just begging to be lifted by nimble fingers. Even at Minski’s niggardly rates, something like that would bring in enough money to feed them all for a week, and pay for
lodgings well away from Whitechapel and Hardiman. With that much cash, she would have no need to seek help from Stone.

The gentleman stopped just yards from her. Taking a silver cigar case from his pocket, he selected one, and was attempting to strike a vesta when Clemency barged into him.

‘Oh, sorry, guv. I didn’t see you standing there.’ She had not lost her touch. In seconds she had his watch and his wallet, and he had not felt a thing. She wrinkled her nose. His expensive cologne did not quite mask the offensive odour of sweat and bad breath. He had dropped his silver case and the cigar rolled into the gutter.

‘Clumsy young idiot.’ His florid features crumpled into a scowl.

Clemency bent down to retrieve the slightly dented case. ‘You dropped this, guv.’ She handed it to him, tipped her cap and backed away. The trick was to scarper before the punter realised that anything was missing. She was about to run when he patted his stomach and let out a bellow like an infuriated bull.

‘Stop thief. Stop I say.’

She turned to run and cannoned into a hard, muscular body. A man’s hand gripped her by the collar. ‘Hold on, young fellow.’

Clemency closed her eyes. She would know that voice anywhere. She waited for Jared to denounce her.

‘What did he take, Mr Caruthers?’ Jared’s voice held the hint of laughter.

Clemency opened her eyes, angling her head in an attempt to read his expression, but he was not looking at her. He held her by the scruff of the neck as if she were a naughty puppy. She was tempted to kick him in the shins – that would wipe the smile of his face.

Caruthers gave a snort. ‘My gold watch and my wallet, both gone. Call a constable, Stone.’

Jared gave her a shake. ‘Hand it over, Clem. How many times have I told you not to behave in this manner?’

Reluctantly, Clemency produced the watch and wallet and handed them to Caruthers.

‘What? Do you know this little villain?’ Purple in the face, Caruthers stared at her with his eyes bulging from their sockets.

She stopped struggling and waited to see what Stone had to say to that.

‘Unfortunately I do. This boy is my housekeeper’s son. I thought he had reformed, but I’m sorry to say that he is a recidivist. It’s a good beating for you, my lad. And a diet of bread and water for a week should put a stop to your wicked ways.’

‘I don’t know, Stone. I think you should turn him over to the law. They know how to deal with his sort.’

‘In most circumstances I would agree with
you, sir. But this unfortunate boy grew up without the advantage of a father to teach him discipline.’ Jared lowered his voice. ‘And his mother, a good woman at heart, was saved from a life of depredation by the home for fallen women, of which you are a most generous benefactor and patron.’ He gave Clemency another shake. ‘And this is how you repay your poor mother, boy. Shame on you.’

Caruthers tucked his possessions safely back in his pocket. ‘Deal with him harshly, Stone. I’ll leave his punishment to you, although, in my opinion, it’s a crying shame they stopped deportation to the antipodes. We don’t want your sort in this country, you young felon.’ He hailed a passing cab. ‘Goodbye, Stone. I’ll see that the funds are transferred to your bank immediately.’

‘You are too generous, Mr Caruthers.’ Jared waited until Caruthers had climbed into the hansom cab, and then he frogmarched Clemency up the steps and into the entrance hall, where he released her. ‘Sorry about the rough handling, but you were a fool to try it on with a man like Caruthers, and in broad daylight.’

Clemency backed away from him. ‘I’d have got away if you hadn’t interfered.’ She stood with her back to the wall. Jared was between her and the door, and she could hear footsteps approaching from the other direction. Turning her head,
she thought she recognised the woman who came bustling up to them. She was certain it was Nancy, the woman who had been in charge of the seedy establishment in Hog Yard. She had looked like a slattern then: fat, frowsy and not particularly clean. The starched severity of a housekeeper’s attire did nothing to disguise the fact that she waddled like a duck.

Nancy came to a halt, squinting at Clemency with her eyes narrowed. ‘I know you, don’t I? I never forgets a face.’

Jared reached out and tweaked the cap off Clemency’s head so that her hair fell about her shoulders in a fiery cloud. ‘You’re right, Nancy. This is Miss Skinner, who narrowly missed being carted off to Bow Street for attempting to steal Mr Caruthers’ watch and wallet. Badly done, Clemency. You’re out of practice, my dear.’

‘Oh, shut up!’ Clemency could take no more. A wave of dizziness swept over her and she swayed on her feet. ‘I – I’d like to sit down.’

Nancy took her arm and hooked it over her ample shoulders. ‘What are you thinking of, Mr Stone? Can’t you see the poor girl is done in? Come with me, ducks. I’ll take you downstairs to the kitchens. A good feed is what you need. Why, you’re lighter than a sparrow.’

‘I am a sparrow.’ A bubble of laughter rose in Clemency’s throat. ‘La Moineau, that’s me. The sparrow.’ She felt her knees buckle and Nancy’s
face became a distant blur. She could hear voices but she could not make out the words. She was floating in the air, weightless and moving through space. When she opened her eyes she found herself lying on a couch with Jared and Nancy bending over her. She tried to sit up but was pushed gently back against satin cushions.

‘Don’t move, you’ll feel better in a minute or two.’ Jared felt her brow. ‘You don’t seem to be feverish. When did you last eat?’

‘I dunno. Last night, I think. I can’t remember.’

He straightened up, turning to Nancy. ‘I think all she needs is a good meal. Will you see to it, please?’

‘Certainly, sir. Shall I have the food taken to the dining room?’

‘No, a tray here in the drawing room will do, thank you, Nancy.’

‘You’re all skin and bone, my girl,’ Nancy said severely. She left the room with a rustle of stiff petticoats.

Clemency raised herself on her elbow, watching Jared as he strolled over to a wine table and poured something from a decanter into a small glass. He brought it to the couch. ‘Do you want to try sitting up now?’

She snapped upright and was immediately sorry as her head began to swim. She leaned against the backrest. ‘I – I’m fine.’

He held the glass to her lips. ‘Sip this; it will make you feel better.’

‘What is it?’

He laughed. ‘It’s only sherry. I’m not trying to drug or poison you.’

Clemency took the glass and drank the contents in one swallow. She coughed and her eyes watered as the fortified wine hit her stomach with the speed of a bullet.

‘I said sip, not gulp. You’re obviously not used to strong drink.’

The alcohol had bounced from her belly to her brain; she felt pleasantly muzzy and quite reckless. ‘I was raised on gin. It’s mother’s milk to me, so don’t think you can get me drunk, Mr Stone.’

The corners of his eyes crinkled and his lips twitched, but he nodded his head gravely. ‘The thought never crossed my mind, Miss Skinner. Now, let’s stop playing games and you can tell me exactly why you came to see me.’

Clemency bit her lip; the wine might have emboldened her, but she had not given much thought to what she would say when face to face with him.

He pulled up a chair and sat down beside her. ‘It must have been something serious to bring you this far. I know what you think of me.’

She sat upright, eyeing him defiantly. ‘I want you to call off your bloodhound.’

‘My bloodhound?’

‘Don’t act all innocent. You know who I mean. That beast, Hardiman.’

‘Hardiman works for me, it’s true, but he just follows my instructions. He doesn’t know of your existence.’

‘He’s my worst enemy. Do you really expect me to believe you didn’t know that?’

There was no hint of amusement in Jared’s expression now. ‘I had no idea. I hired Hardiman because I’d heard of his reputation as a tough man, someone who would collect rents and, if necessary, evict unsatisfactory tenants.’

‘And you set him on us. You was happy to have us turned out of our lodgings with Mrs Blunt, just to get your own way and have me running to you begging for a job. You’re as bad as he is – no, worse. He’s an ill-bred piece of shit, but you’re supposed to be a gent. Well, you don’t act like one, that’s all I can say.’

Jared rose to his feet and walked away to stand by one of the tall windows, which overlooked the gardens in the centre of the circus. ‘You’re right, of course. I’m not a gentleman, but I’m not a brute either.’ He turned his head to look at her. ‘You’d better start from the beginning. Tell me how you know Hardiman and what he is to you.’

Before Clemency could launch into an explanation, the door opened and Nancy came in carrying a tray. ‘I brought it meself, sir.’ She set it
down on a table at the side of the couch. ‘Never mind the chat. You eat this while it’s hot. I ain’t climbing them stairs with another one, so I want to see it all gone by the time I gets back.’ She waddled out of the room, closing the door behind her.

‘She’s right,’ Jared said, smiling. ‘You’ll find that Nancy is nearly always right, or so she told me all those years ago when I was in the nursery. I can wait until you’ve eaten. Then you can tell me everything.’

Clemency would have liked to push the tray away, and tell him what he could do with his food, but the appetising smell of the soup, and the fragrant steam from the bread rolls, was making her mouth water. Pats of yellow butter were temptingly arranged on a flower-patterned china plate and, on another, there was a slice of chocolate cake.

‘I suppose I must,’ she said, dipping the silver spoon into the soup. ‘I don’t want to offend Nancy.’ She raised it to her lips, determined to eat daintily. She had been watching the female members of the cast when they snatched their meals in between matinees and evening performances. They didn’t cram food in their mouths as though their lives depended upon it; they nibbled, sipped and cocked their little fingers when they held their teacups. They ate with their mouths closed, and they didn’t smack
their lips. They did not belch appreciatively when their bellies were full, which, apparently, was considered bad manners.

The soup was good, better than good, it was delicious and she forgot all about table manners. She forgot all about Jared and she ate ravenously, wiping the bowl with the last of the bread and licking the spoon until it shone. She could not wait to start on the slice of chocolate cake, which was filled with buttercream and topped with chocolate and crystallised violets. She had only tasted chocolate once before, and that was when she had stolen a cake from the baker’s shop. She had gorged the whole thing and been sick afterwards, but it had not put her off, and she had never forgotten the taste and feel of the chocolate as it melted on her tongue.

She was licking the crumbs off the plate when she realised that Jared was laughing at her. ‘What?’

‘I’m sure there’s plenty more in the kitchen. You have only to ask and I’ll ring the bell for Nancy.’

She put the plate down on the tray. ‘No, ta. I’d throw up if I ate anything else.’

He was laughing openly as he came towards her, pulling a freshly laundered cotton handkerchief from his pocket. Clemency pushed the table away and rose rather shakily to her feet. ‘’Ere, what d’you think you’re doing?’

Jared wiped her face. ‘You’ve got chocolate all round your mouth.’

She snatched the hanky from him and went to look in the mirror above the mantelshelf. He was right; she had a ring of chocolate all round her mouth, as well as a blob on the tip of her nose. She scrubbed it off, scowling at her reflection. Her face was pale and there were dark smudges beneath her eyes. Her hair was a tangled mess, her clothes were dirty and she looked like a guttersnipe. What was worse, she knew she was behaving like one too; no wonder he was laughing at her. She had come to him for help and he had not only saved her from arrest, but had given her a meal such as she had never eaten in her life. Visions of Ma in her sickbed and Jack hiding beneath the stage in the theatre flashed through her mind. She was suddenly ashamed of her behaviour and embarrassed by her lack of social graces. She turned slowly to face Jared, holding out the soiled hanky. ‘Ta for the loan.’

He waved it aside. ‘Keep it. It’s yours.’

‘I don’t want to be accused of stealing it.’