The Cockney Angel (42 page)

‘She will grow fast enough,’ Clara said, smiling proudly. ‘She’ll be running round the house before Emmie knows it.’

‘Caroline,’ Emmie said. ‘She is to be christened Caroline Clara.’

The baby opened her eyes as if in answer to her name, and she stared up at Irene.

‘She has such dark blue eyes. She looks at me as if she knows me.’

‘They will darken to brown, just like Josiah’s,’ Emmie said, holding out her arms as the baby began to cry. ‘Give her to me, please. It’s time for her feed.’

Irene passed the wailing infant to Emmie with a feeling of relief. Babies were fine until they cried, and then they were best handed back to their doting mamas. ‘I’ll go then, and leave you in peace.’

‘So soon?’ Clara’s smile faded into a frown. ‘Won’t you stay for a while, Renie? If you would help me downstairs to the drawing room I’ll ring for some tea.’

‘Of course, Ma.’ Irene helped her mother from the chair, noting with a surge of concern that her mother’s brittle bones felt increasingly like those of a fragile bird. She comforted herself with the knowledge that what Ma lacked in physical strength she more than
made
up for in spirit. ‘I’ll call again soon, Emmie,’ she called over her shoulder as they left the room.

But Emily was apparently too absorbed in the pleasure of suckling her child to take much interest and she merely smiled and waved her hand. ‘Yes. Thank you for coming.’

Slowly, with Ma in obvious pain, they made their way along the landing and down the stairs to the drawing room. As soon as her mother was comfortably ensconced in an armchair by the fire, Irene rang the bell to summon Jessie. ‘How are you feeling, Ma?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Is the pain bad today?’

‘Not more than usual, ducks. It could be a lot worse.’

‘But there’s something troubling you, I can tell.’

‘Just the usual, Renie. I worry about your pa and the pain of not being able to visit him in prison is worse than all the rheumatics put together.’

Irene knelt at her feet. ‘I haven’t forgotten about him, not for a single moment, and I intend to do something about it now that I’m back in London.’

‘That’s all very fine, love, but what can a slip of a girl like you do? My Billy broke the law and now he’s being punished.’

‘He was foolish, Ma, and he got mixed up
with
the wrong people, but he’s not a criminal. You mustn’t give up hope.’

‘You won’t do nothing silly, now will you, Renie? Promise me you won’t.’

‘Trust me, Ma. I won’t make things worse, but I will get him pardoned if it’s the last thing I do.’

‘Don’t talk like that, ducks. Many a true word is spoken in jest.’ Clara glanced over Irene’s shoulder as the door opened and Jessie sidled into the room. ‘Tea and cake, please, Jessie.’

Jessie acknowledged Clara’s request with a surly nod of her head and departed, closing the door behind her with a rebellious thud.

‘That girl needs a lesson in good manners,’ Irene said, rising to her feet. She brushed the creases from her skirt and a sudden thought occurred to her. ‘Ma, have you any idea how much a brief would cost?’

‘No, but I do know it would cost more money than we’re ever likely to get our hands on.’

Irene remembered the huge sum of money that she was about to squander on new clothes. Why had she not thought of it before? She bent down to drop a kiss on her mother’s grey hair. ‘I won’t stop for tea, Ma. I’ve got things to do.’

‘Irene Angel, what are you up to?’ Clara demanded.

But Irene was already on her way out through the door. She turned her head and grinned. ‘You’ve just given me a wonderful idea. I’ll tell you about it later.’

As luck would have it a hansom cab had just set down a fare a little further along the street and Irene hailed it with an imperious wave of her hand. ‘The Tippet emporium, High Holborn, please, cabby.’ She climbed into the cab and settled down to plan her course of action when she arrived at Josiah’s shop. There was only one person of her acquaintance who might have had dealings with a lawyer whose fees would not be astronomical, and that was Erasmus. Much as she disliked him, Irene could hazard a guess that he had been up before the beak a few times in his short career and had obviously escaped with a mere caution or a small fine. His father would most certainly not approve of such goings-on, and she was not above using a bit of blackmail in order to get her own way.

The cabby set her down outside the impressive frontage of Josiah Tippet and Sons, Drapers, where the windows were filled with items designed to tempt female customers into the store. Ostrich feathers dyed in jewel colours were arranged in urns draped with silk scarves. Swathes of Indian muslin hung from invisible hooks like morning mist and bolts of
satin
, watered silk and cotton prints were draped in the semblance of a rainbow. It was enough to make a dressmaker’s mouth water. As Irene approached the double glass doors a uniformed doorman ushered her into the establishment. Long counters with highly polished surfaces were manned by white-collared shop assistants with eager smiling faces. The walls were lined with shelves stacked with merchandise, and glass-topped stands were arranged strategically around the floor inviting closer inspection. Unable to resist the temptation, Irene peered into one of them and was amazed to see cases spilling over with buttons of every shape, size and description, from mother-of-pearl to millefiori. It was like looking into a wealthy woman’s jewellery casket. She dragged her mind back to the business in hand as a young man wearing a black tailcoat approached her with an obsequious smile. ‘May I assist you, madam?’

‘Please inform Mr Erasmus that Miss Irene Angel is here and would like to speak with him on an urgent matter.’

‘I’m afraid he’s otherwise occupied, madam. I believe he is stocktaking.’

‘I’m sure he can spare me a moment of his valuable time,’ Irene replied smoothly. ‘Please take me to him at once. There is no need to announce my arrival.’

‘I – I don’t know, madam. This is very irregular.’

‘I am his aunt,’ Irene said haughtily. ‘He won’t thank you for keeping me waiting.’

‘Yes, madam. I’m sorry. Please step this way.’

Irene smiled to herself as she followed the flustered shop assistant. She had a score to settle with Ras and she was going to enjoy this.

Chapter Twenty-one

THE ASSISTANT LED
her through a door at the back of the shop and along a narrow passage between racks tightly packed with boxes of all shapes and sizes. A lingering musty smell assailed her nostrils and the air was thick with dust and cotton fluff. She was ushered into a cramped office at the far end of the corridor.

Light filtered hazily through a small window which was partly obscured by shelves filled with sample books. Ras was seated behind a large desk which was submerged beneath a higgledy-piggledy assortment of ledgers and documents, some of which had fluttered to the floor and lay gathering dust on the ground. He did not appear to be doing anything more constructive than flicking pellets of paper at a daguerreotype of his father which hung on the opposite wall. He looked up with a guilty start and jumped to his feet as Irene entered the room. ‘My dear Irene, this is an unexpected pleasure.’

‘I’ll come straight to the point, Erasmus,’ Irene said coldly. ‘You are a cad and a libertine and you have treated me very badly.’

He perched on the edge of the desk and his eyes hardened, although his lips were still stretched into a sickly smile. ‘Come now, my dear. That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? As I recall you led me on and then cried foul. That was not the action of a lady.’

‘I don’t pretend to be a lady, but I did nothing to encourage your drunken advances. You had me evicted from the house like a dishonest servant, and now I’m giving you the chance to make up for your appalling behaviour.’

‘And if I choose not to do whatever it is that you want of me?’

‘I have only to whisper a word in Vic or Wally’s ear that you have shamed the daughter of one of their gang members and they will settle your hash once and for all. The Sykes brothers look after their own, Ras.’ It was a bluff, of course, but she was counting on the fact that he would believe her. She eyed him contemptuously and was satisfied to see his cocky smile fade and his flushed cheeks pale to ashen.

‘I say, old girl, there’s no need for that sort of talk. You know it was all a ghastly mistake. I’ll tell the old man so, if that’s what you want.’

‘Yes, that’s a part of it,’ Irene agreed. ‘But there is something else. I need a lawyer who is not afraid to take on my father’s case.’

‘Why come to me? Lincoln’s Inn is full of them. You could take your pick.’

Irene fixed him with a hard stare. ‘You know as well as I that none of them would touch a case like this. My father was convicted of a crime that involved the Sykes gang and they are still at large. It would be a brave and very expensive lawyer who risked his reputation by taking Pa’s side.’

‘You’ve just admitted his guilt. Why waste money on a hopeless case?’ Ras eyed her with a gleam of suspicion in his dark eyes. ‘If it’s cash you want you’d best look elsewhere. I’m afraid I can’t help you.’

‘All I’m asking for is the name of a mouthpiece who will convince a judge that there has been a miscarriage of justice.’

‘You’ve got the wrong chap, Irene. I can’t and won’t help you.’

‘I know what sort of life you’ve been leading,’ Irene said softly. ‘I’m certain you’ve only escaped jail yourself through having a bent lawyer. Now are you going to help me, or do I have to go to Josiah and tell him how you spend your leisure time?’

He stared at her with unconcealed dislike. ‘I won’t allow a silly young tart like you to blackmail me.’

‘Then let’s see how you like being thrown out on the streets and having to exist without
your
father’s backing. If he knew that you creep out at night to visit gaming hells, opium dens and brothels he would cut you off without a penny.’

Ras slid off the desk, flexing his hand as if he would like to strike her. ‘You bitch.’

‘That’s right, hit me,’ Irene taunted. ‘Let’s see what Josiah thinks of a son who strikes a defenceless woman. Touch me and I’ll scream so loud that all your staff and customers will hear me.’

‘I was just testing you, Irene,’ he said, dropping his hand to his side with a sickly smile. ‘You’ve got spirit, I’ll say that for you.’

‘Give me the name of your bent lawyer and his address and we’ll call it quits,’ Irene said evenly, although she was inwardly quaking. She had thought him to be little more than a cowardly fool, but she had seen a flash of suppressed violence in his eyes and that scared her. She smothered a sigh of relief when he turned back to his desk and scribbled something on a scrap of paper.

‘This is my chap. He has got me out of several scrapes in the past and he knows when to keep his mouth shut. Mention my name and he’ll take care of matters for you.’

Irene took the paper and put it in her reticule.

‘Are you satisfied now?’ Ras demanded.

She was quick to hear a note of anxiety in
his
voice, and she smiled. ‘Almost, but not quite, Erasmus. I want fifteen yards of crimson silk taffeta and a similar amount of sprigged Indian muslin. You can add matching thread to that order and enough lace for trimming.’

He curled his lip. ‘Are you sure that is all?’

She was beginning to enjoy herself. ‘You might include a skirt length of dove-grey bombazine and several yards of white cotton-lawn, enough for two blouses, and a sufficient quantity of mother-of-pearl buttons.’ She made to leave the room, pausing in the doorway. ‘And you can have the order sent to my dressmaker. She is the same woman who makes your stepmother’s clothes so her address will no doubt be on your books. Goodbye, Ras. I hope we don’t meet again.’ She stepped into the corridor, closing the door with a triumphant smile. The look on Ras’s face had been priceless, and the dull thud of a projectile hitting the door behind her proved that she had scored a victory over the abominable Erasmus Tippet.

Outside in the street she took a deep breath of the damp air and it was only then that she realised she was shaking uncontrollably.

‘Shall I hail a cab for you, ma’am?’ The doorman was at her side, peering anxiously into her face. ‘Where do you wish him to take you?’

‘Holborn Hill,’ Irene said firmly.

* * *

The office of Lester Fox, Solicitor and Commissioner for Oaths, was situated on the top floor of a five-storey building on the corner of Leather Lane and Holborn Hill. The ground floor housed an outfitters specialising in garments and equipment requisite for foreign travel, and the upper floors were given over to offices. Irene was quite breathless by the time she had negotiated five flights of stairs to the attics where the servants would have been housed in days gone by. The corridor was dimly lit by a single gas light that fluttered feebly in its glass bowl, emitting just enough illumination for her to read the inscriptions on the closed doors.

‘Come.’ A voice from within responded to her nervous rap on the solicitor’s door and she entered, blinking as her eyes grew accustomed to the bright light. A waft of cool April air fanned her hot cheeks and papers fluttered about in the draught from an open window. A stronger gust tugged the door from Irene’s hand, causing it to slam. She saw to her surprise that the dormer windows were flung wide open and half a dozen or more pigeons were balancing on the narrow window ledge, pecking at handfuls of corn thrown by a chubby, bald-headed man who sat behind a kitchen table which served as his desk. He turned his head and stared at her over the top
of
steel-rimmed spectacles and his pale blue eyes twinkled a welcome. ‘Hello, young lady. What can I do for you?’

Irene glanced at the piece of paper clutched in her hand, checking the address. There was no mistake, and she raised her eyes to meet his questioning gaze. He looked nothing like her idea of a lawyer, crooked or otherwise. His smile was quite cherubic and although he must have been well into middle age his skin was remarkably unlined, giving him the appearance of an elderly baby dressed in a man’s suit of clothes. He tossed another handful of corn to the birds, chuckling at their antics as they attempted to edge each other off the high windowsill in their eagerness to snatch the grain. ‘My little friends are hungry today. Do you like birds, young lady?’