The Cockney Sparrow (26 page)

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Sit down and tell me why you came here today. And how did you know where to find me?’

Clemency tucked the hanky in her pocket and her fingers closed around the calling card. She handed it to him. ‘She come to the theatre and she said you wanted to see me.’

‘Izzie came to the theatre?’

‘Your lady friend seems to think a lot of you. Or perhaps she’s your wife? Did you do the right thing and marry her?’ The question was out before Clemency could stop herself.

‘Marry her?’ Jared stared at her as if she had spoken in a foreign tongue; then he threw back his head and laughed. ‘No, you’ve got it all wrong, Clemency. Izzie is my sister.’

‘Your sister? How was I to know?’ How dare he laugh at her? She felt the colour rise to her cheeks. ‘I don’t see what’s so funny.’

‘You may not, but Izzie will.’

Jared continued to chuckle and Clemency moved towards the door. ‘All right, you’ve had a laugh at my expense. I’ll be on me way.’

‘No, please sit down. I think I know what it must have cost you to come here, so why don’t you start at the beginning, and tell me how you came to know Hardiman.’

She was still smarting with embarrassment, but they were all depending on her. It wouldn’t take Claypole long to realise that she had broken her contract and Hardiman might even now be at the theatre, attempting to bully Jack into revealing her whereabouts. At least none of them knew where she had gone, so they would not be caught out in a lie. She began, haltingly at first, but she gained confidence when he proved to be a good listener. She told him everything, from
the time when their father had deserted them to the moment when Ned had seen her off on the omnibus. ‘So you see, I’m desperate. Not just for meself – I’d stand up to Hardiman, and I’d see him in hell afore I’d become his creature. But I got family to consider, and me friends. They’re all relying on me.’

‘You need not fear Hardiman. I’ll deal with him.’ Jared’s face might have been sculpted from granite, but his eyes flashed angrily. ‘I’ve no time for men who live off the immoral earnings of women.’

‘I ain’t sure I believe you. I saw what you done to that poor girl Meg. She was working for you, but you threw her out when she was in trouble.’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘For all I knows it was your brat she was carrying. You’re as bad as Hardiman.’

‘Meg was just a pickpocket and not a very talented one at that. She had a comfortable life under my care, but she allowed herself to be led astray by the first good-looking man who showed her any attention. I don’t buy and sell women’s bodies.’

‘But you hired Hardiman. I can’t believe you didn’t know nothing about him.’

‘If I had known about him and his connection with you, I would never have taken him on. I told you that I’ll deal with him, and I will.’

‘And that makes everything right, does it?’
Clemency jumped to her feet. ‘I dunno why you picked me, mister. But you’re as much to blame as he is. Hardiman can’t help being a brute, he was born that way, but you – you got all this and yet you wants more. I’d be happy just to have a proper home, even if it was just one room and a privy all to ourselves, not shared between a whole houseful of people.’ When he did not answer immediately, she turned her back on him and went to retrieve her cap from the couch. ‘I’m going. Ta for the food. I just wish I could have shared it with me friends and family.’ She had her hand on the brass doorknob when Jared called her back.

‘Wait.’ He stood up slowly, holding out his hand to her. ‘Hear me out, Clemency. Then if you still wish to leave, I won’t stop you.’

She hesitated. Pride made her want to slam out of the room, but common sense was urging her to give him a chance to speak. She turned to face him. ‘Five minutes. Then I’m going.’

‘Won’t you sit down again, please?’

‘Ta, but I’d rather stand. Four and a half minutes!’

‘All right, just hear me out.’ Jared began to pace the floor, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. ‘This house doesn’t belong to me, I just rent it. I’m not a wealthy man. It was my grandfather who made money, out of slaves and sugar in the West Indies. When he returned to London, he
bought a fine house in Islington and he became a benefactor to the poor. He built the foundling hospital and the home for fallen women, as well as the mission for seamen. Perhaps he did all that to assuage his guilty conscience for making a fortune from slavery, I don’t know. But what I do know is that my father was brought up to a lifestyle he could not support. He gambled away most of the family fortune, and was cheated out of his home by a man who is my worst enemy, but that is another story. The truth is that I inherited nothing but a few run-down properties in poverty-stricken areas, and the burden of raising funds for charitable institutions that I cannot sell, but of which I own the leasehold. I’m neither a gentleman nor a businessman. I live by my wits.’

‘But I heard you talking to that old cove outside. He said he was giving you money, didn’t he?’

‘That’s true, and it’s how I manage to live a lifestyle quite beyond my means. Living in this mansion, and keeping up the appearance of having money, attracts wealthy men who want to put back a little into the society that they robbed in order to become rich in the first place. Getting them to donate funds is laughably easy. They want to buy their place in heaven, to be revered as patrons and benefactors, and to see their names etched in stone above the portals.’

‘So you get the money off them and spend it on yourself?’

‘Not exactly. Well, not entirely. But you’ve grasped the basic idea. I cream off money for expenses and donate the rest to charity.’

‘And you’re the charity?’

‘No. I do see that they get the major portion of the money I raise, but I have to live, and I have had to look after Izzie since our parents were killed in an accident many years ago.’ Jared stopped pacing and turned to face her. ‘I do collect rents from my properties in Spitalfields, but they don’t pay for all this.’ He encompassed the elegantly furnished room with an expansive gesture and a wry smile. ‘I supplement my income and that of the charities, by relieving the disgustingly wealthy of trinkets that they would barely miss.’

Clemency put her head on one side, staring at him with renewed interest. ‘Let me get this straight. Are you telling me that you’re a cheap chancer, and all this is paid for by petty crime?’

‘In a nutshell, yes.’

‘And that’s why you wanted me? You want me to be your trained monkey to dip the pockets of your rich cronies, in spite of the fact that you’ve already swindled them out of their hard-earned cash?’

‘I spotted your talent that day outside the jeweller’s shop. I recognised something in you,
Clemency, that hit a chord in me. With a little coaching I could turn you into a woman who could go anywhere, mix with the right people and fleece them into the bargain. Forget singing, forget acting in second-rate theatres. Come and work with me and I promise that you’ll never be hungry again. You’ll have fine clothes to wear and a carriage to ride in. Together we could make a fortune. What do you say?’

‘Where would I live? I ain’t going to live in that doss house in Hog Yard.’

‘No, of course not. You would live here with Isobel and me. This house is huge. Less than half the rooms are furnished, but it fools the rich merchants into thinking I have money and position.’

‘And what about me family and me friends? I can’t leave them in the lurch.’

Jared’s smile faded. ‘I wasn’t thinking of taking on the lot of you.’

‘It’s all or nothing. Take it or leave it.’

For a moment, she thought he was going to refuse, then a reluctant smile lit his eyes and he held out his hand. ‘You drive a hard bargain, Miss Skinner.’

Clemency spat on her hand and placed it in his, giving it a determined shake, but when she attempted to pull away he tightened his grip. She tried to break free and failed. ‘Let go of me.’

‘I will, but there’s one thing I want you to promise me, on your honour.’

‘How d’you know I got any honour?’

‘If we’re to get along then we have to trust one another.’ Jared released her hand. ‘My sister, Isobel, knows nothing about my business dealings, and I intend it to stay that way. She has been brought up to be a lady, well educated and refined. She thinks that our money was inherited and that I am a reputable businessman. I want her to remain ignorant of the truth. Do you understand me, Clemency?’

Rubbing her hand, she stared up into his face, taken aback by the intensity of feeling in his voice. So Jared Stone had a heart after all. She nodded. ‘I understand.’

‘You can bring your friends and family here, but they must abide by the same rules.’

‘Yes, I promise they will.’

‘Isobel must think that they have been taken on to work for me. Therefore I’ll expect them to earn their keep.’

‘That’s fair. They ain’t a pack of scroungers.’

Jared’s tense features relaxed into a smile. ‘Then what are you waiting for? Go and fetch them.’

Clemency hesitated, unwilling to ask him for money, but he seemed to understand. He took a handful of silver from his pocket. ‘Here, this will pay for a cab fare.’

She took the money. ‘Ta.’

‘Thank you,’ Jared said, as if he were talking to a small child. ‘Your education starts here. It’s thank you, not ta.’

‘Thank you – sir.’ Clemency bobbed a mock curtsey, stowing the money safely in her pocket. ‘I’ll be off then.’ She was tucking her hair into her cap when she realised that Jared was staring at her. ‘What’s up? Have I grown two heads or something?’

He folded his arms across his chest, looking her up and down. ‘The first thing we’ll do is burn those dreadful clothes. I’m sure Izzie can find something more suitable for you to wear until we’ve had time to buy you a brand new wardrobe.’

Clemency paused in the doorway. ‘Where is she? This innocent young sister of yours?’

‘Out, thankfully. On a shopping trip with our maternal grandmother, Lady Skelton.’

‘Crikey, you never said you was related to the nobs.’

‘And you can stop swearing. Good gracious will do. I can see this is going to be an uphill struggle.’

‘Oh, shut up.’ Clemency opened the door, determined to have the last word. ‘I can learn quick. I’m an actress now – La Moineau. I’m someone, and don’t you forget it.’

She left the room before he had a chance to
reply. The coins jingled in her pocket as she crossed the wide landing. She had been semi-conscious when Jared carried her up the sweeping staircase to the drawing room on the first floor, but now she saw the full grandeur of the building with its high ceilings, ornate cornices and richly patterned wall coverings. Her feet sank into the deep pile of the carpet and there was the faint scent of flowers in the air. It was like a palace, she thought, making her way down the staircase. The walls were hung with oil paintings, and there wasn’t a trace of dust or mouse droppings on the carpeted stair treads. She could never have imagined that anyone less than Queen Victoria herself could live in such splendour. Whoever said that crime did not pay had obviously never been inside Jared Stone’s drum. She grinned, imagining Jack’s face when he saw the place where they were going to live. Even Augustus would be stunned into silence.

From somewhere deep in the bowels of the building, she heard the jangle of the doorbell, and then, as she rounded the curve of the stairs, she saw Nancy hurrying along the hallway towards the front door. The bell rang again. Someone was getting impatient. Clemency looked around for a way of escape, but the hall seemed to go on forever, punctuated by doorways leading to goodness knows where. There must be a back entrance, but the quickest
way out was definitely through the front door, which Nancy now held open. Two fashionably dressed ladies swept in, followed by a cabby staggering beneath a pile of bandboxes and parcels. Clemency recognised Isobel, and she could only think that the older woman must be Lady Skelton. She pressed herself against the wall, hoping they would not notice her, but it was too late.

‘What are you doing above stairs, boy?’ Isobel peered at Clemency through the veil on her feathered hat. ‘Nancy, send him about his business.’

‘I’m sorry, Miss Isobel. It’s the cook’s boy. I didn’t know he was stood there.’

Having paid the cab driver and sent him on his way, Lady Skelton pushed past Isobel, brandishing her furled parasol. ‘I don’t like the look of him. He looks shifty. Check his pockets, Mrs Spriggs.’

Nancy caught Clemency by the ear. ‘Don’t say nothing,’ she hissed. ‘Just act dumb.’

‘Ouch!’ Clemency wriggled free, kicking out at Nancy with her booted foot. She dodged past Isobel, and ducking a blow from Lady’s Skelton’s parasol, she fled through the open door, took a flying leap down the steps and kept on running until she reached the safety of London Wall, where she stopped to hail a passing cab.

She had hoped to reach the theatre before the
box office opened, but the hansom cab became stuck in traffic that was not moving in either direction. The driver, when questioned, said he could see a costermonger’s barrow had turned over in the street, spilling fruit and vegetables all over the road. What with the horses trying to snatch up apples, and passers-by helping themselves to free fruit and vegetables, he said he couldn’t see them moving for a good while. He settled down to exchange good-natured banter with another cabby, while Clemency sat fuming at the delay.

When they eventually reached the Strand Theatre, the doors were open and early theatregoers were already queuing for tickets. Clemency paid the cabby and hurried round to the stage door. The doorman, apparently having sobered up by now, barely looked up from reading the newspaper. She strolled past him as though she had not a care in the world. The minute she was out of his range of vision, she broke into a run. She had to get them all out of the theatre before the rest of the cast arrived and started asking awkward questions. She burst into the musicians’ dressing room, skidding to a halt as she came face to face with Hardiman.

‘Run, Clemmie.’ The words were torn from Jack’s throat. ‘Run.’