A Place Called Home (16 page)

Piers was not at home, but Dora was unaffectedly delighted to see Lucy and only too pleased to have an excuse to leave the house. ‘Mama wanted me to be there when her boring friends came to luncheon; she likes to show me off as if I were a prize cow at a country fair. She's quite desperate to see me married to a rich man, especially since Piers has failed to come up to scratch.' She clapped her hand over her mouth with a nervous giggle. ‘I'm sorry, Lucy. I didn't mean it to come out like that. I am so tactless sometimes.'

‘Yes,' Lucy agreed. ‘You are, but I still love you, and I'm still fond of Piers in spite of the fact that he was marrying me for my money.'

‘No, don't think that,' Dora said anxiously. ‘He really does care for you, Lucy. It's just that the family are putting such pressure on him to marry well. He was very upset when we left you the other day. I hope you weren't too devastated.'

‘Not at all. It was Grandfather's wish that I married well, but I don't think we would have suited. I want to marry for love.' Lucy turned her head away to look out of the window. ‘I'm quite excited at the thought of being the sole owner of a property, even if it is in Leman . . .' She broke off, blinking hard before taking a second look. ‘It's – no, it can't be.'

‘What is it?' Dora demanded. ‘What have you seen?'

‘
I THOUGHT IT
was someone I once knew,' Lucy said dazedly. ‘But I must have been mistaken.' The woman had looked exactly like Hester Gant even though ten years had passed since Lucy had last seen her, but their acquaintance had been brief and it seemed unlikely that Hester would be in this part of London.

‘I'm always getting people muddled up,' Dora said cheerfully. ‘Anyway, what were you about to say?'

‘I was going to say that the house in Leman Street is in a bad state, according to Mr Goldspink, and it's a rough area. Are you sure you want to come with me?'

‘Most certainly. It would be much more exciting than a boring lunch with Mama's stuffy friends.'

‘My carriage is outside.'

‘I wouldn't miss this for the world.' Dora leapt to her feet, her cheeks flushed with excitement. ‘I'll ring for Dobson and tell her to fetch my bonnet and shawl.'

Leman Street was crowded with horse-drawn vehicles of every sort from hansom cabs to brewer's drays, all vying for position with costermonger's barrows and carts laden with night soil. Shabbily dressed pedestrians milled around, risking their lives by weaving in and out of the traffic or barging into each other on the pavements as they hurried towards their destinations. Beggars sat in doorways and street arabs worked in gangs, picking the pockets of the unwary. Older boys and girls, who were less quick on their feet, waylaid passers-by demanding money, and when this failed they resorted to violence, snatching purses or dragging their victims into narrow alleyways and robbing them of their valuables.

Once a prosperous area inhabited by silk weavers and merchants, the wide street was now lined with cheap lodging houses, pubs, brothels, pawnbrokers and shops selling second-hand goods. The side streets and alleyways were knee-deep in filth and even less salubrious, housing opium dens and illegal gambling clubs. Lucy was only too familiar with this area, but Dora was shocked into silence. She sat with her handkerchief clutched to her nose as the noxious smells flooded the carriage,

‘We're here,' Lucy said, stepping down onto the pavement, assisted by Franklin. She stared up at the Georgian façade of Pilgrim House. Soot-blackened and sadly neglected, it had obviously seen better days. It had once been the home of a wealthy merchant, but had fallen into disrepair and had latterly been used as a doss house.

‘Are you sure this is the right place?' Dora removed her hanky for a moment, but replaced it hurriedly and sank back against the leather squabs. ‘Do you think it's safe to leave the carriage?'

‘You can sit there while I investigate, or you can come inside,' Lucy said, smiling.

‘I – I think I'll come with you.' Dora looked round nervously as Franklin helped her to alight. ‘Open the door quickly. I don't like the look of those boys loitering across the street.'

With a cursory glance at the group of half-starved, ragged children with stick-thin arms and legs, Lucy decided that they were unlikely to be a threat. She marched purposefully up the steps and unlocked the door, but as she stepped inside the oak-panelled entrance hall her nostrils were assailed by a variety of odours, none of them pleasant. Dora hurried in after her and stood looking round at the scuffed skirting boards and the crumbling plaster cornices with a look of horror on her face. Cobwebs festooned the ceiling and rubbish was piled up in front of a door which Lucy assumed must lead to the basement area.

‘You can't mean to live here,' Theodora wailed. ‘It's awful, Lucy. It's a slum.'

‘I've seen worse and I've lived in equally bad conditions,' Lucy said stoutly. ‘It's amazing what a little soap and water and a lot of hard work will accomplish.' She opened the door to her right and found herself in a generous-sized room, with two windows overlooking the street, and a neo-classical burr-oak fireplace which had also seen better days, but could be brought back to its former glory with the application of beeswax and elbow grease. The grate was filled with cinders and ash spilled onto the hearth. Old newspapers littered the floorboards, which might once have been polished to a mirror sheen but were now splintered and ingrained with dirt. The windowpanes were thick with grime, both inside and out, and the wallpaper was peeling.

‘If this is the drawing room I hate to think what the rest of the house is like,' Dora murmured, eyeing a mouse hole in the skirting board.

‘There's only one way to find out. I'm going to explore.' Lucy left the room and went to investigate further, but Dora's fears proved well founded. There was another reception room of a similar size and shape on the ground floor, and two smaller rooms, one of which had shelves built into the alcoves on either side of the chimney breast, and could have been used as a study. The other room overlooked the back yard, and might have been used as a sewing room or a morning parlour in days gone by. Below stairs the basement kitchen was as it must have been when the house was built in the mid-eighteenth century, with an open fire over which a blackened kettle dangled from a chimney crane. A thin layer of soot lay like a mourning veil on the pine table and dresser, and the larder and store rooms were cluttered with empty bottles, flour sacks and traces left by the resident vermin.

Dora could hardly conceal her disgust as she picked up her skirts and tiptoed through the detritus on the flagstone floor. ‘This place is a nightmare. I shudder to think what Piers would say if he thought you had to live in this wreck of a house.'

‘It's no longer anything to do with him,' Lucy said calmly. ‘He made that very clear, and I don't blame him. I'm free now to do as I please.'

‘Can we go now?'

‘I'm not leaving until I've seen everything, but you can sit in the carriage if you don't want to look round any more. Franklin will look after you.'

Dora shuddered visibly. ‘It's worse outside than in here. I'll come with you.'

There were four upper storeys with rooms of varying sizes, the smallest being in the attics, where palliasses and flock-filled mattresses had been abandoned as if the occupants had only recently risen: the indentations left by sleeping bodies still visible. The larger rooms on lower floors were equally crowded with bedsteads and the occasional wooden chair. The smell of unwashed bodies and urine hung in the air like a damp cloud, with dust and city smut carpeting the bare boards.

‘It's disgusting,' Dora said faintly. ‘Please think again. There must be another way.'

‘It's much larger than I imagined.' Lucy looked round with a critical eye. ‘But it will have to do.' She turned to her friend with a tremulous smile. ‘I've no choice, Dora. It's this or the streets, and I know which I prefer.'

‘You can't mean that. Surely Linus wouldn't be so cruel as to force you out of your home to live in poverty amongst the criminal classes?'

‘That's exactly what he wants. Linus tried to get rid of me once before and failed. This time he's succeeded, but I won't allow him to beat me. I'll make the best of this situation and be damned to him.'

‘Lucy! What would your grandfather say if he could hear you talking like that?'

‘He'd be proud of me.' Lucy made her way downstairs to the ground floor. ‘That's enough for now. The whole house needs to be cleaned from the attics to the basement before I move in, and I'll have a new range installed in the kitchen, and a proper sink with running water.'

Dora hurried after her. ‘You're not going to cook for yourself, are you?'

‘I don't know yet. I might have to learn.'

‘I think you've lost your senses. You mustn't do this.'

‘I haven't much choice, Dora. Mr Goldspink advised against taking the case to the court of chancery and I think he's right. I'll just have to make the best of things.'

Lucy arrived back in Albemarle Street with a great deal on her mind. The annuity from her paternal grandmother would be sufficient to live on, providing she was not extravagant, but there were no monies for the renovation needed to make the house in Leman Street habitable. The size of the property had surprised her, but she had already decided that the only solution to her financial problems would be to take in boarders. The main problem as far as she could see was that it would be difficult to find respectable citizens who wanted to live in such a rough area.

Bedwin opened the front door. ‘Mr Daubenay is waiting for you in the morning parlour, Miss Lucy. He insisted on staying even though I told him I didn't know when you would return.'

Lucy sensed his agitation and she gave him an encouraging smile. ‘It's all right, Bedwin, I'll see him.'

She entered the room to find Linus standing with his back to the fireplace. ‘Well?' she said coldly. ‘What do you want?'

‘That's not a very friendly greeting, Lucy.'

‘What do you expect? You've got your own way at last, so what else is there?'

‘I thought we might come to an amicable arrangement, thus avoiding court costs, which would be considerable.'

She was puzzled by this sudden and unexpected show of thoughtfulness, and although she had no intention of going to court, she had no intention of putting his mind at rest on that score. ‘Go on.'

‘You have no hope of winning; I daresay your man Goldspink told you that.'

She shrugged her shoulders, saying nothing.

‘I'm offering you fifty guineas if you'll quit this house as soon as possible, and allow the due process of the law to take place without challenging the case.'

Lucy's first instinct was to refuse, but fifty guineas was a handsome sum and would help make her new home habitable. ‘Why this change of heart, Linus?'

‘Make that fifty-five guineas,' he said hastily. ‘I'm a generous man.'

She had only to look at him to know that he was hiding something. ‘What is it you're not telling me?'

For the first time since she had known him, Linus appeared at a loss for words. He took a quick turn around the room, coming to a halt by the window, staring out as if looking for inspiration. After a brief pause he turned slowly to face her. ‘I'll make it sixty guineas if you will take in Hester Gant and the children.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘The Gant woman is trying to force my hand. She wants me to acknowledge the little bastards and bring them up as my own.'

Lucy sat down suddenly as her legs gave way beneath her. This was low talk, even for Linus Daubenay. ‘But they're your flesh and blood.'

‘Born out of wedlock, so you'll have something in common with them.'

‘I don't have to put up with insults, Linus. This is my house for the time being at least, so I'm asking you to leave.'

He held up his hand. ‘I take that back. What I meant to say was that you spent some time with Meg, and you are no stranger to the children. I want you to look after them for me.'

‘I still don't understand. What does Meg say about this?'

‘She died some weeks ago.'

‘I'm so sorry. She was such a sweet and gentle lady.'

‘I treated her well enough. I supported her and asked very little in return,' he said sulkily. ‘But now I am saddled with her brats.'

Lucy rose to her feet. ‘I won't listen to this any longer. You're going to take my inheritance from me, which might not make you rich, but I'm sure you could afford to bring up your own children.'

‘I'm engaged to be married. My fiancée knows nothing of my past.'

‘So you don't think this lady would be too pleased if she discovered you had fathered three illegitimate children?'

‘Four, actually. Meg died giving birth to the last one and it didn't survive.'

‘You're a callous brute. Meg was a good woman, who deserved better than you,' Lucy's voice broke with emotion. ‘Those poor motherless children.'

‘I might have expected such a mawkish response from you, but all to the good. You wouldn't stand by and see your cousins sent to the workhouse, would you?'

‘You are an evil man, Linus.'

‘I'll give you sixty guineas and that will be the end of my involvement with the little bastards. You will take full responsibility for them.'

Lucy was struck by a sudden thought. ‘But what about Bram? Surely he won't stand by and see his sister's children treated in such a callous manner?'

‘The boy joined the army six years ago. According to Gant his regiment, the 7th Hussars, was in India until a year ago. I've no idea where he is now or even if he survived the rigours of a posting to such a harsh environment, but he's not my concern and I really don't care what's happened to him.'