Victorian Vigilantes 01 - Saving Grace

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Saving Grace - Copyright Wendy Soliman 2014

This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses or events.

Author’s Note

I lived in South London for many years, close to where the Great Exhibition, or the Crystal Palace as it became known, was relocated until it burned down in 1936. Ruins still remain. Given that I was brought up on the Isle of Wight, a stone’s throw from Osborne House, Queen Victoria’s island retreat, I suppose it was inevitable that I would eventually combine the two experiences.

I have always been fascinated by the history of the Crystal Palace and the thinking behind the Great Exhibition and enjoyed re-recreating its inception in
Saving Grace
. The Koh-i-Noor diamond was controversially gifted to Queen Victoria and the stone really was considered to bring bad luck to any man who owned it. Plans were made to steal it during the exhibition.

Thankfully they didn’t succeed.

Oh, and in case you think my description of Eva and Isaac’s love affair isn’t consistent with the Victorian moral code, think again. Osborne House is full of nude bronzes, nude marble statues, and amazingly sensual figures are painted on life-sized frescos through the house. The prince might have been straight-laced in London but clearly felt free to express himself when in the country. Prince Albert was definitely lover of the classical figure!

Eva regarded her reflection in the cracked, grimy glass fixed to a nail on the back of the door. She gasped at the sight that greeted her. It was even worse than she had supposed and turned away from it. The wild-eyed, desperate looking creature who stared back at her couldn’t possibly be her. In spite of her straitened circumstances, her appearance could not possibly have deteriorated quite so quickly.

She tucked an escaped strand of hair behind her ear, trying not to think how long it had been since she had last enjoyed the luxury of washing her hair, a pleasure she had once taken for granted. At least her bonnet concealed the condition of her crowning glory and so she would not risk denting her dwindling determination by dwelling upon something she could not fix. Instead she took a deep breath and risked another peep at her image, trying to convince herself it couldn’t be as bad as all that. But even with her chin elevated, her head tilted at a playful angle and a forced half-smile playing about her lips, the situation hadn’t improved. She pinched her cheeks but they remained unnaturally pale. Her face was gaunt, she couldn’t seem to eradicate the worry lines from around her eyes no matter how much she smiled, and without cosmetics it was impossible to disguise the dark shadows beneath them.

Eva grimaced. If the gentleman she was engaged to call upon placed much stock by first impressions then her quest to find gainful employment was doomed before it had even begun. That realisation stiffened her resolve. She absolutely could not afford to fail.

“I can do this,” she told herself, the sound of her refined voice echoing around the squalid room, giving her courage. “I absolutely can. At least I sound like a lady. I shall simply imply that I have fallen upon hard times.”

God alone knew, it was the truth.

Eva squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and stepped from the shabby Whitechapel boarding house that had been her home for the past interminable week. The wide brim of her heavily trimmed bonnet partially concealed her eyes as she walked purposefully down the filthy street, looking neither left nor right for fear of attracting unwanted attention.

In spite of her best endeavours to blend in, she was conscious of more than one inquisitive stare being directed her way, implying she looked as out of place as she felt in surroundings that were totally alien to her. She did not belong here. She no longer knew where she belonged and the feeling of being cast adrift, the fear of discovery that never left her, intensified with every step she took.

Eva continued to look straight ahead as she avoided the worst of the putrid rubbish littering her path, doing her best to conceal her growing unease. She had been unable to shake the feeling that someone had been watching her lodgings for the past couple of days. Common sense told her that if she had been identified she would have been snatched long before now and returned to Sloane Street. She tried not to think about how much more likely that possibly had become now necessity had forced her to venture out of doors in broad daylight.

Renewed fear trickled down her spine when the heavy footsteps of a man sounded directly behind her, matching his pace to hers. Eva resisted the urge to lift her skirts and run.

There was nowhere left for her to run to.

Her heart rate returned to something approximating normal when the person following her turned off. It was a false alarm.

This time, at least.

Eva was approached by an urchin selling pies from a tray. The mouth-watering smell given off by his wares caused her stomach to growl but, mindful of her dwindling resources, she declined to make a purchase. An endearing little girl with a toothy smile and grimy face then offered her a bunch of violets. Eva returned the child’s smile but shook her head, disciplining herself not to think about Grace. Unless she found a way to survive
and
best William, Grace would be lost to her forever. Eva must accustom herself to that unpalatable truth.

“Never!” she said aloud, her innards turning to ice at the mere thought of never seeing her child again.

A man of dubious occupation tried to approach her but she swept past him as though he didn’t exist. He shouted insults at her retreating back. A crossing sweeper she thought she recognised waved but she pretended not to notice. Perhaps William had known where she was all along and had sent him to spy on her. It would be typical of her husband’s cruel nature to bait her thus, waiting until desperation sent her scurrying back to him rather than forcibly compelling her to return, as he so easily could.

She reached the junction with Mitre Square without being further accosted. The roads became wider, busier and slightly more salubrious. Eva hailed a handsome cab and climbed into its shabby interior. She could scarce afford the fare but it was a necessary expense. If she walked all the way to Grosvenor Square she wouldn’t be fit to be seen by the time she arrived at her destination.

She kept the blinds closed as the jarvey made his way through the streets of the metropolis, doing what she could to ensure she looked neat and respectable. Beneath her cape-like jacket she wore the only presentable day dress she now owned—plaid silk taffeta with wide sleeves and neat box pleat frills in deep shades of blue and green—tolerable and unexciting.

The carriage slowed and Eva sensed they had reached their destination far sooner than she felt ready to face it, but her dire financial circumstances precluded further procrastination. She must either find gainful employment in a place where William would never think to look for her, or finish up in the workhouse—it was as simple and unequivocal as that.

Eva scanned the street as a matter of course. A man on a cob rode slowly past, seeming to watch her intently. He looked familiar too. Eva was sure she had seen him somewhere recently. Panic welled. Lud, could she have been followed?

With no alternative available to her, Eva alighted from the handsome and paid the driver. The man on the cob had carried on down the road, paying her no further heed. Relieved on that score, Eva turned her attention to the premises she had been delivered to and gasped her appreciation. Even by Grosvenor Square standards the place was magnificent. She found herself gazing up at a huge mansion built in what appeared to be solid marble, its myriad windows sparkling in the morning sunshine, wrought iron gates firmly closed, the gardens beyond them meticulously maintained.

“This cannot be it, surely?” she said aloud. “It must be some cruel trick engineered by William to make me expose myself.”

When no one sprang out of the shadows to grab her and passers-by paid her no attention at all, Eva took a moment to assess her situation. She had answered an advertisement in
the Times
for an educated female willing to undertake organisational duties. It had seemed too good to be true that a situation she was qualified to fill should arise at a time when she had been so close to despair. Whatever the duties were, no matter how mundane, she would to adapt to them or die trying. Beggars could not be choosers. Besides, Eva no longer had any pride left upon which to stand.

She had been interviewed at an agency but told little about the duties in question, which made her suspicious. Wildly fantastic notions spilled through her brain but she firmly quelled them. White slavers didn’t require educated women, nor did they operate from such a grand address, did they? And this
was
the address she had been required to report to at ten this morning, where all would be explained to her, apparently.

Several local clocks sent up competing chimes, galvanising her into action. She was about to be late, which was hardly the best way to champion her cause. She pressed the bell situated on the gatepost and waited. Moments later the gates swung open on well-oiled hinges. Eva took another fortifying breath and walked up the neat driveway, the heels of her half-boots crunching over the immaculately-raked gravel. Immediately in front of the steps was a huge turning circle. In its centre was a pond occupied by carp and a pretty fountain with what appeared to be a statue of Aphrodite to briefly divert her.

Without knowing more about the position she was applying for, she was unsure whether to ascend the steps to the front door or head around the side to the tradesman’s entrance. Her difficulty was resolved when the front door opened and a butler, so well turned out he made Eva feel shabby by comparison, stood looking down at her in all his stately splendour.

“You have business here?” he asked.

His failure to address her as ‘madam’ didn’t escape Eva’s notice but was of no consequence. Finding suitable employment most definitely was and so she offered him a guarded half-smile. There were bound to be other applicants for such a plum position and winning the butler’s approval would be a good way to improve her chances of securing it. Eva had reason to know that butlers wielded considerable influence in the households they ruled and she had more sense than to underestimate this one’s ability to champion her cause.

“Indeed, my name is E…” Lord have mercy, she had almost given her real name! She pretended to cough and took a moment to collect herself. “Excuse me, my name is Mrs. Dalton. I have an appointment with Mr. Morton.”

The butler inclined his head. “Mr. Morton is expecting you. Please step this way.”

Eva ascended the stairs, her insides a tangle of nerves, suspicion and stark determination. However demeaning, if she was deemed suitable to fill it, she would grab this position with gladness in her heart. She still held out hope of it being for either a governess or a tutor. She had emphasised her educational qualifications at the agency, which they seemed to find impressive. Thankfully they didn’t probe too deeply, nor did they ask where she had obtained so much knowledge.

If she was placed in charge of Mr. Morton’s children, always assuming he had any, she would do everything in her power to make herself agreeable to them. Then, when she got Grace back, perhaps Mr. Torbay would allow her to remain here with her mama. In a house as large and as grand as this one, little Grace would pass almost unnoticed.

As plans went it was pathetically optimistic, and almost certainly bound to fail. Even so, Eva clung to it with the fierce tenacity only a mother forcibly separated from her child could possibly appreciate. She simply
had
to make a favourable impression upon Mr. Morton. He was probably a hundred years old, suffered from gout and had an irascible disposition. She simply didn’t care. Eva was desperate enough to do anything to procure his good opinion.