It was now brought home to me that the fears which had started to come to me when we first turned into the labyrinth of back streets were fully justified. I was in a more unhappy position now than I had been when accosted by the woman in the crowd.
“Now don’t be frightened, dearie,” said Mrs. Brown. “No harm will come to you if you’re good. It’s not my way to harm people.” She turned to the others. “Look at her. Ain’t she a little beauty. Come out to buy vi’lets for her mamma. Feel the cloth of this cape. Best velvet. That’ll fetch a pretty penny. And she kept her hand on her purse too, which was nice of her. She came near to losing it in the crowd.”
I said: “What does this mean? Why have you brought me here?”
“There,” said Mrs. Brown, “Don’t she talk pretty. You two girls want to listen and learn how to do it. I reckon it would be a help to you in your work.”
She laughed. It was amazing how quickly Good Mrs. Brown had become Evil Mrs. Brown.
“What do you want of me? Take my purse and let me go.”
131”First of all,” said Mrs. Brown. “We want that nice cloak. Off with it.”
I did not move. I stood there clutching it to me.
“Now, now,” said Mrs. Brown. “We don’t want trouble. Trouble’s something I never could abide.” She took my hands in a firm grip and wrenched them from my cloak. In a few seconds it was off my shoulders. One of the girls grabbed it and wrapped it round herself.
“Now then, now then,” said Mrs. Brown. “Don’t you dirty it, now. You know how particular Davey is. He wants it just as it comes off the lady.”
“I see you brought me here to steal my cloak. Well, you have it. Now let me go.”
Mrs. Brown turned to the girls and they all laughed. “She’s pretty, though, ain’t she?” said Mrs. Brown. “Such a trusting little piece. She took quite a fancy to Good Mrs. Brown, I can tell you. Was ready to follow her wherever she led.”
I turned towards the door. Mrs. Brown’s hand was on my arm.
“That’s not all, ducky.”
“No,” I cried. “You want my purse as well.”
“You did keep it nice and safe for us. It would be a pity not to have it after that, wouldn’t it?”
They kept laughing in a shrill way which frightened me.
I took out my purse and threw it on the floor.
“Good. You see she’s not one for trouble either.”
“Well, you have my cloak and my purse. Now let me go.”
Mrs. Brown was feeling the stuff of my gown.
“The very best cloth,” she said, “only worn by the gentry. Come on, dearie. Off with it.”
“I cannot take off my dress.”
“Her servants has always done it for her,” mocked one of the girls.
“We’ll be her servants today,” said Mrs. Brown. “I always believe in treating my friends in the way they’re used to.”
It was becoming more and more of a nightmare. They were pulling my dress over my shoulders.
“What shall I do?” I cried. “You are taking all my clothes. I shall be ... naked.”
“See, a nice modest little girl. Now listen, dearie, we wouldn’t let
132you go out into the streets starkers, would we, girls? Now that would cause a bit of a barney, wouldn’t it?”
They all laughed hideously.
I felt numb with terror. How I longed to call back time. How I wished I was sitting at my window and that I had had the good sense to do what I had been told was the wise thing to do-never go out alone.
I was sure this was some sort of nightmare. It couldn’t be true. Things like this did not happen.
They had stripped me down to my shift. How I hated their dirty fingers feeling the cloth of my clothes, gloating, as they took them from me, over the price they would fetch.
I stood there shivering with the awful realisation that if I wanted to escape I could not run out into the street with no clothes on.
Nevertheless I felt I could not endure to stay any longer in this terrible room with the piles of clothes lying on the floor. I saw that it was the profession of women like Mrs. Brown to lure unsuspecting people-children, it seemed mostly-into her den and there rob them of their clothes.
“Well, dearie,” said Mrs. Brown, “you was a nice little pick up. But listen here.
I don’t want no trouble. You understand. Trouble and Mrs. Brown is two that don’t go together.”
“You’re a thief,” I said. “You will get caught one day and you’ll go to Tyburn for what you do.”
“Not such a babe as we thought, eh?” She winked at the girls, who chortled with amusement.
“We’re careful. We’re good. Least I am. I wan’t called Good Mrs. Brown for nothing.
Give me that cloak, ducks,” she said to one of the girls. The girl handed her a cloak which was rugged and torn.
“There, wrap that round yourself,” she said.
I looked at it distastefully.
“Oh, it’s not what you’re used to, dearie. I know that. But it’s better than going naked. It’s more decent, see.”
I wrapped the cloak round me and for a moment my disgust was greater than my terror.
“Now listen, dearie. We’re going out of here. I’ll take you back on your road, see.
I don’t want no trouble. I don’t want nothing traced to me. Good Mrs. Brown keeps out of trouble. All she wants is the
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nice clothes rich little ladies and gentlemen wear. It don’t mean much to them because they have others. But it means the difference between eating and starvation to Good Mrs. Brown. So I shall take you out with me. And if you was to shout I’d got your clothes nobody here would listen to you. Then I’ll leave you to find your home on your own. Yes, when it’s safe I’ll leave you. Understand?”
I nodded. My one desire was to get out of this place with as little trouble as possible.
She gripped my arm. We went up the stairs. The relief to feel the fresh air again was great.
All the time she was taking me through the narrow streets she was talking to me.
No one took any notice of us. She had had my shoes too, so I was barefooted and I could not walk easily on the cobbles.
She laughed at me because I stumbled.
“They are such pretty shoes,” she murmured. Then she went on: “Listen to me, ducky.
You’ve had a lucky escape. You lost your clothes. You could have lost more than that, dearie. Mrs. Brown has taught you a lesson. What a day for a rich little girl to go wandering out in her velvets and silks! Today, dearie, there’s more rogues and vagabonds in this ‘ere city than at any time .. . and there are enough of us, Gawd knows, without this new lot. They comes in from all over the place, coronation days, royal weddings, you know ... such like. They’re the times to make a picking. Well, you’ve been plucked, little pigeon, and thank your stars it was by Good Mrs. Brown.
Now I don’t want no trouble. You haven’t been hurt, have you. I’ve even given you this ‘ere cloak to cover yourself. They’ll ask questions. You’ll tell them it was Good Mrs. Brown ... but you won’t know where I took you, will you? So you won’t be able to tell on me. You’ll get over this. My what a scolding you’ll get. Silly little pigeon. But they’ll be that glad to get you back; I reckon you’ll be petted more than ever. Thank Good Mrs. Brown. And you won’t want to bring trouble on her, will you? Remember the good she’s done you. Why, you might have been picked up by one of them old bawds and been sold to some loving old gentleman by now. See. You’ll be prepared next time. But I reckon there won’t be a next time. You’ve learned a lesson from Good Mrs. Brown.”
We had come out of the labyrinth of streets.
“There now,” she said. “You want to get home fast. Just round the
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corner is the street where they was getting ready to duck the old quack. You know where you are from there. Get home ... quick.”
She gave me a little push. I looked round and she disappeared. My relief was intense.
I started to run.
Yes, she was right. There was the street where it had all begun. If I turned the corner and went straight on I would come to Eversleigh House.
I turned that corner and ran full tilt into a woman who was walking along with a young man beside her.
She gave a little shriek of disgust and I think she put out a hand to ward me off.
I fell sprawling to the ground.
“Gad,” said the young man. “She’s wearing nothing beneath the cloak.”
“She was after my purse,” said the woman.
“I was not,” I cried. “I have just been robbed of my clothes.”
They were startled by my voice, and having just come from Mrs. Brown’s terrible room I understood why. It did not match my appearance.
The young man helped me to my feet. We must have looked odd together, for his appearance could only be described as exquisite. I could smell the faint perfume with which his clothes were scented.
The lady was beautifully dressed too and also perfumed. We must have made a strange contrast.
“What happened to you?” said the lady.
“I came out to buy some violets for my mother,” I said quickly. “A woman started to shout at me in the crowd and then another woman came along. She said she would take me to buy the violets and she took me to a horrible room and made me take off all my clothes.”
“There’s quite a trade in it,” said the young man. “It is usually young children who are the victims. Are you hurt?”
“No, thank you. I want to get home quickly.”
“Where is your home?”
“It’s Eversleigh House.”
“Eversleigh House! So you are one of the Eversleighs,” said the woman.
“Let us get her home quickly,” said the young man. “They’ll be anxious, I daresay.”
They walked along beside me. I wondered what passersby thought
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to see this elegant pair in the company of such a ragged barefooted urchin. No one took very much notice. So many strange sights were seen in London that the people accepted them as commonplace.
I could have wept with relief when we arrived at the house. Job, one of our servants cried: “She’s here. Mistress Damaris is here.” I knew by his words that I had already been missed.
My mother came running into the hall. She saw me standing there in the horrible cloak, stared disbelievingly for a few seconds then, realising it was indeed her daughter, swept me into her arms.
“My darling child,” she said, “whatever has happened? We have been frantic.”
I could only cling to her speechless, I was so happy to be with her.
The lady spoke. “It’s a trick they practice often,” she said. “She was robbed of her clothes.”
“Robbed of her clothes . . . !” my mother repeated.
Then she looked at the two who had brought me home. I saw her glance at the young man and as she did so a strange look came into her face. It was a mingling of all sorts of things, amazement, disbelief, a certain fear and a sort of horror.
The lady was saying: “We found her running away. . . . She ran into us, and then, when we heard who she was, we thought we would make sure she got home safely.
My mother stammered: “Thank you.” Then she turned to me and hugged me against her and we just clung together.
My father appeared.
“She’s here. She’s home,” he cried. “Thank God. Why ... for God’s sake.”
My mother said nothing and it was the strangers who explained.
“It was good of you,” said my father. “Come, dearest, let the child get rid of that awful garment. She had better have a bath quickly.” I ran to him and he held me tightly.
I had never loved them so much as I did at that moment.
My mother was terribly shaken. She seemed to be in a kind of daze and it was my father who took charge.
“You must have some refreshment,” he said to the woman and the young man.
“It is not necessary,” said the woman. “You will all be feeling very upset.”
136”Oh, come,” said my father, “you must stay awhile. We want to tell you how grateful we are.”
“The streets of London were never safe but they are becoming worse than ever,” said the young man.
“Priscilla,” said my father, “take Damaris up and look after her. I’ll see to our guests.”
I went upstairs with my mother. The cloak was taken away and given to one of the servants to burn. I washed all over in warm water and dressed myself while I told my mother exactly what had happened.
“Oh, darling,” she said, “you shouldn’t have gone out on your own.”
“I know, but I only meant to go to the top of the street and buy you violets.”
“When I think of what could have happened. That wicked woman ...”
“She wasn’t so very wicked, mother. She called herself Good Mrs. Brown. She didn’t hurt me. She only wanted my clothes and my money.”
“It is monstrous,” said my mother.
“But she was poor and it was her way of getting something to eat, she said.”
“My dear, you are such a child. Perhaps you should rest now.”
“I don’t want to rest, mother, and I think I should go down and thank the people who brought me home.”
My mother stiffened in a strange way.
“Who are these people?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I was running along and fell into them. I went sprawling on the ground and they picked me up. They knew this was Eversleigh House, and when I told them it was my home they insisted on bringing me.”
“Very well,” she said, “let’s go down.”
My father was in the drawing room with them and they were drinking wine. They were still talking about the rogues who invaded London at a time like this. My grandfather and grandmother had joined them. They had not been aware that I had disappeared and had listened with horror to what had befallen me.
My grandmother rose up when I entered and embraced me with
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fervour, but the way my grandfather looked at me implied that he had never had much respect for my intelligence and had even less now.
My father said: “This is the strangest coincidence. This lady is Mistress Elizabeth Pilkington, who once thought of taking Enderby Hall.”
“Yes, and I was very disappointed when I heard that it was no longer for sale.”
“A caprice of my granddaughter’s,” said my grandfather with a curl of his lips. “The house belongs to her. It’s a mistake to give women power over property. I’ve always said it.”
“You have always nourished a feud against the opposite sex,” said my grandmother.