The Best of Sisters (28 page)

‘Oh, I don’t know about that. I don’t go out much.’

‘Then you should. A pretty young – I mean a businesswoman such as yourself ought to get out socially. You would meet merchants, traders and ship owners who would be useful contacts in the commercial world.’

She had nothing to wear that was suitable for such a grand occasion. Eliza shook her head. ‘No. I’d like to, but I can’t.’

‘Of course you can. I’ll send our carriage to pick you up at seven-thirty on Friday evening. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to disappointment my father, now would you?’

Ada poured tea into a chipped china cup for which there was no saucer. ‘That’s only four days away, Liza. A dinner party with a lot of toffs. I wouldn’t fancy that.’

‘It’s business, Ada,’ Eliza said, taking the cup of tea and staring into the clear straw-coloured liquid. She knew very well how precious the
much-used tea leaves were, but she had not wanted to offend Ada by refusing her hospitality.

‘All the same,’ Ada said, easing herself onto one of the hard wooden chairs. ‘You can’t go to a gaff like that if you ain’t got the proper duds.’

‘I know, and I can’t afford to buy nothing new, not even from the pawnbrokers or second-hand from Lumber Court down St Giles way.’

‘Huh,’ Ada said, sipping her tea. ‘All you’d get there is fleas and lice. No, we got to think of something else. I feel so bad that I can’t pay you the full rent, Liza. I’ll have to wait until next month afore I can get my allotment from the shipping company and Arthur’s still not working.’

‘He’s on the drink again?’

‘No. He’s always down the mission run by that Mr Booth these days. Mary and Millie encouraged him to go; the two of them was convinced that Mr Booth could get him off the booze.’

‘And did he?’

‘Yes, dear. He’s not touched a drop for two weeks, but now he spends all his time at prayer meetings asking the Lord for help. I ain’t sure what’s worse. Neither way brings in any money.’

‘But you have enough to feed the family?’

‘We’re managing. Eddie earns a few coppers as a shoeblack, though I’d rather he attended the
ragged school with Artie and Sammy. Then Mary brings us some leftovers from the kitchen at the big house in Islington; that is when she gets her afternoon off.’ Ada paused, and her tired eyes lit up as if she had had a wonderful idea. ‘I know, we’ll ask Mary. It’s her half day tomorrow and she might be able to help you do up one of your old frocks, Liza. She’s been promoted to lady’s maid. The poor girl what had the job went down with smallpox on a visit home, and that was her done for. So Mary got the job. They say it’s an ill wind, don’t they? Anyway, I’ll send her round to see you as soon as she comes home.’

As Eliza walked home to Hemp Yard, she felt as if a big, black cloud was hanging over her, even though the sun was still shining and the heat reflecting up from the cobblestones. She doubted whether Mary would be able to help, although she hadn’t liked to say as much to Ada. She was not certain if anyone could help her out of this particular situation; she could plead illness or a sick headache, but if she did so then she would miss an opportunity to make her mark amongst the very people who would help her resurrect the business. It was at times like this that Eliza missed Bart the most. She tried not to dwell on what might have been if he had lived, but, in truth, she could not entirely believe that he was dead. In her heart, she hoped that one day he would turn up on the doorstep, grinning and
telling her that reports of his untimely demise had been a terrible mistake. Then there was Freddie. It was too painful to let her thoughts dwell on what might have happened to him.

She arrived home, not in the best of spirits. Millie was sitting on a stool beside Dolly, reading to her from the Bible, although Dolly had her eyes closed and seemed to be fast asleep. Millie looked up and smiled. ‘I got home early, Liza. Sold all me flowers and made threepence. We’ll have boiled bacon and pease pudding for dinner tonight.’

‘Threepence! You did well,’ Eliza said, taking off her bonnet. ‘But I don’t like to think of you walking all the way to Covent Garden and back each day, let alone sitting outside St Paul’s in all weathers.’

‘It ain’t so bad, Liza. I don’t mind and at least it’s a good pitch. Sitting at the bottom of the steps I can hear the organ playing and watch the people going in and out. They’re a bit more generous when they come out from a holy place.’

‘It’s still not right that you should have to sell flowers on street corners.’

‘The Lord helps them what helps themselves,’ Millie said, smiling. ‘Mr Booth said that at one of the Christian Mission meetings. I’ve learnt all sorts of things there, and I get comfort from praying for Davy’s safe return.’

‘That’s another thing. I know you took Mr
Little to the mission because you care for Davy and his family, but it ain’t right for you to associate with all them topers and drug addicts.’

‘You worry too much, Liza. I like singing hymns and Catherine, Mrs Booth, is thinking of starting a soup kitchen for the poor. She says I can help her and it stops me thinking about Davy all the time.’

Eliza felt the colour rise to her cheeks as she remembered the hunger of Davy’s kiss and her unexpected response. What could have possessed her to encourage him when she loved Davy only as a brother? She tried to think of something comforting to say, but Dolly stirred in her chair and opened her eyes, staring at Eliza. ‘Why are you dressed all in black like a crow, Liza?’

‘I’m in mourning for Ted.’ Eliza went to Dolly’s side and held her hand. ‘Don’t you remember?’

‘No dear, Ted’s working in the sail loft.’ Dolly gave her the sunniest of smiles. ‘You must be thinking of someone else. Ted will be home in a while and he’ll get my supper.’

‘Yes, Mum, of course he will.’

‘Is it time for me medicine, Liza?’

Exchanging worried glances with Millie, Eliza shook her head. ‘Not yet.’

Dolly shivered. ‘I think it is. Go and fetch Ted, tell him I want me medicine. If you can’t find Ted
then get that nice man, Dr Freddie, he’ll make me up a bottle of the elixir. He knows how to make me feel better.’

Eliza patted her hand. ‘Don’t fret, Mum. I’ll get you some medicine.’ She went to the mantelshelf and took down the brown glass bottle. It was empty.

‘I know what you’re going to say,’ Millie said, shaking her head. ‘But we got to wean her off that stuff, it’s bad for her. Drugs come direct from the devil, that’s what Mr Booth says. Drugs and drink are both as bad as each other.’

Eliza slipped the bottle into her pocket. Sometimes she could happily go down to the mission and strangle Mr Booth. He seemed to have both Millie and Arthur permanently in his thrall. She couldn’t argue with the sense of what he was preaching, but then he didn’t have to live with Dolly, whose mind wandered at the best of times, and whose only relief came from a small, brown medicine bottle. She reached for Ted’s tobacco tin where she kept the money set aside for housekeeping. Shaking the pennies out into her hand, she repressed a sigh; the money was disappearing at an alarming rate. Dolly’s constant need for laudanum was not only worrying but it was also expensive. Eliza stared at the coins in her hand, reluctant to spend any of it on a drug that was stealing what was left of Dolly’s mind, but painfully aware of the results if she
were to deprive her of her one comfort. ‘There’s nothing for it, Millie. You know what we’ll go through tonight if she don’t get her laudanum and I can’t face it.’

Millie hesitated for a moment and then she held out her hand. ‘Give me the bottle. I’ll do it, but I don’t like it.’

‘I don’t like it either, but we can’t let her suffer.’

‘I’ll go to the apothecary’s on the way back from the pie shop,’ Millie said, jingling the pennies in her hand. ‘I’m blooming starving.’

When she had gone, Eliza considered lighting the fire in the range in order to boil a kettle of water for tea, but she abandoned the idea. What little coal was left must be hoarded against the approach of autumn and bad weather. Their financial situation was dire and, whether she wanted to or not, she must attend the dinner party given by Aaron Miller. She would need all the help she could muster to get the business going before the onset of winter.

Late on Friday afternoon, Mary arrived at the house carrying a bolster case that looked as though it were about to burst its seams. She thrust it into Eliza’s arms with a nervous smile.

‘I can’t stay, Liza. Mrs Wilkins will skin me alive if she finds out I’ve left the house without her permission.’

‘Ta, Mary. I can’t thank you enough for this.’
Eliza looked inside with a gasp of pleasure. ‘What a lovely colour, and it’s real silk too.’

Millie leapt up from her seat at the table to help her extricate the shimmering folds of the evening gown. To Eliza’s astonishment, there seemed to be yards and yards of whisper-soft pink silk, trimmed with cobwebs of fine lace. ‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, but it’s too good. I daren’t wear this, Mary.’

‘You’d better, since I risked me neck to borrow this for you. Luckily, Miss Cynthia is away in Hertfordshire staying with her grandparents and not expected back for a week. Just don’t spill anything on it, Liza. And don’t let no one near you with sticky fingers or I’ll be dead meat.’

‘Stop saying that,’ Millie said, frowning. ‘She’s nervous enough already. You got to stay a bit, Mary, and put Liza’s hair up for her because I don’t know how to do it and you do.’

Mary bit her lip, glancing at the clock on the mantelshelf. ‘Well, I suppose I could stay for half an hour. Sit down then, Liza. Let’s see what I can do for you.’

At precisely seven-thirty, the Millers’ coachman knocked on the door to escort Eliza to the carriage that was waiting in the main street, Hemp Yard being too narrow to allow anything longer than a donkey cart to turn around. As she walked behind the coachman, she could see faces
peering at her through grimy windows. Others stood in their doorways, watching her open-mouthed. Tomorrow she would be the talk of the yard, and tongues would be wagging; the gossips would be wondering how a poor girl could afford such a gown. She could almost hear them suggesting that she was no better than she should be; all done up like a dog’s dinner and going off in a private carriage. They would say there was a man at the back of it, a fancy man with money. She held her head high, concentrating on subduing the writhing snakes in her stomach. Tonight she had to make a good impression. As Eliza stepped into the Millers’ carriage, she had never felt so frightened or alone.

By the time they reached the imposing frontage of the Millers’ Queen Anne mansion, she was in two minds whether or not to plead sickness and return home. The coachman opened the door, pulled down the step and offered her his arm. She could still make her excuses. But it was too late – a liveried footman had opened the front door and Aaron was coming towards her, smiling and holding out both hands. ‘My dear Miss Eliza, you look absolutely stunning.’

She didn’t know whether to shake his hand or bob a curtsey. In the end she did both. ‘It was kind of you to invite me, Mr Miller.’

‘Come and meet my wife.’ Aaron led her into the marble entrance hall, which seemed as large at St Paul’s Cathedral to her bemused eyes. He took her into a reception room crowded with people who were all staring at her, smiling and nodding. A sea of strangers, Eliza thought, in which she might sink without trace if she were not very careful. Brandon was standing beside a woman who seemed to be the hostess and, Eliza reasoned, must be his mother. He was smiling at her, but there was a teasing glint in his eyes that made her spine stiffen and brought her chin up. She bobbed a curtsey to Mrs Miller, who seemed small and inconspicuous beside her tall, elegantly dressed son.

‘Anne, this is Miss Eliza Bragg, the young woman who owns the chandlery.’ Aaron turned to Eliza. ‘Miss Eliza, my wife Anne.’

Anne looked Eliza up and down and her lips smiled but her eyes were cold. ‘How do you do, Miss Bragg. Welcome to our home.’

‘Thank you, ma’am.’

‘Brandon, do your duty,’ Anne said, tapping him on the arm with her furled fan. ‘Introduce Miss Bragg to the rest of our guests.’

As Brandon offered her his arm, Eliza knew that she had not made a good impression on his tight-lipped mother. But the appreciative sparkle in Brandon’s eyes told her that the combined efforts of Millie and Mary had not been in vain.
They had tugged at the laces on her stays until she could barely draw a breath, but she could probably boast the smallest waist in the room. Her neck felt as though it would snap beneath the weight of her hair elaborately coiffed into a pale golden coronet on the top of her head, skilfully threaded with beads and silk flowers by Mary. She could not look down without blushing at the expanse of bare bosom revealed by the low-cut gown, but Brandon and the other gentlemen were obviously relishing the sight.

‘You look good enough to eat, Eliza,’ Brandon whispered in her ear as he guided her across the red carpet towards a prosperous-looking man seated with his overdressed, bejewelled wife. ‘Smile at the old buffers and they’ll be falling over themselves to give you trade discounts and put business your way.’

By the time they had done the full circle of the room, Eliza felt that her smile had set in concrete on her face. Brandon had done nearly all the talking, speaking for her and squeezing her arm when he wanted her to make the appropriate response; she was beginning to feel like a ventriloquist’s doll.

‘You did well, Eliza,’ he said, taking a glass of sherry from a tray proffered by a servant and handing it to her. ‘The men will be eating out of your pretty little hand.’

‘Maybe, but the women all hate me.’ Eliza
gulped a mouthful of the wine and felt the unaccustomed alcohol shoot straight to her head. She had not eaten all day and she had never drunk anything stronger than port and lemon or small beer.

‘Steady on,’ Brandon said, raising an eyebrow and grinning. ‘You’ll get squiffy if you carry on like that.’

‘I shouldn’t have come. They all think I’m a tart.’

‘They’re not used to women in business, especially young and beautiful women like you, Eliza. Don’t judge them too harshly, and use your looks and charm to your advantage.’