Chapter 10
Or rather, Mr. Fielding’s letter went on, I found out who she used to be.
Because I can never leave things alone, and I admit to great curiosity about her, I found the parson of Christ Church, Stepney, now living in simple retirement, and asked if he remembered Mrs. Kerr.
He did, because he regarded her as a lost sheep who came back to the flock. She’d entered a bawdy house by the time she was sixteen—I imagine she had very little choice in the matter. Either she was taken against her wishes or she’d decided it was the only way to keep herself from starving.
However, she did leave the bawdy house eventually. She set up her own residence in Bethnal Green, not as a madam but as an angel of mercy, brave lady.
She took in children who would normally be left to die in the streets or locked into the sort of houses she’d just escaped.
She offered them a place of refuge and worked her fingers to the bone to feed and clothe them.
The vicar personally assisted her as he could, happy Mrs. Kerr had seen the error of her ways.
The parishes themselves didn’t help in the way of monetary donations, because she was sponsored by no church, and she didn’t feel the need to toddle off with the lads and lasses to Sunday school each week.
Because Mrs. Kerr kept them warm and fed without trying to save their souls, she received no bounty.
I inquired about Mr. Kerr, but this vicar had never met him, had no memory of a wedding, and indeed, the parish registers I consulted contained no record of a marriage.
I conclude that she took the name to give herself a modicum of respectability—a widow assisting abandoned children would be less likely to be brought to the attention of the police than an unmarried fugitive from a bawdy house.
Jessica Kerr died, either of disease or exhaustion, when she was nearing fifty, moving back to Stepney in her last year to be looked after in a poorhouse of that parish. The house was leased to someone else, and what became of the children she’d looked after, the vicar has no idea.
The house itself was on West Street, which is very near Victoria Park, that bastion of green some well-meaning reformers plunked into the center of the slums. I tell you this because I know you’ll want to poke about, even if I warn you not to, and it’s safer if you don’t simply wander through the East End asking about Mrs. Kerr.
If you must continue your inquisitiveness on this case you and McAdam are supposedly working on, meet me in Victoria Park on Thursday afternoon, near the west entrance.
Answer as soon as you can as to whether you will meet me, so I do not stroll the paths in vain.
Yours in burning curiosity,
Errol Fielding
I read the letter over several times, folded it, and slid it into my apron pocket.
Once I had sent up breakfast, I tore a blank page from my notebook and scribbled that I’d be happy to meet Mr. Fielding at the west gate of Victoria Park at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.
I slid the note into a parcel I did up of scones, wrapping it in brown paper and addressing it to Mr. Fielding at his vicarage in Shadwell.
Usually, I asked Mr. Davis to make certain my letters or parcels were posted, but as he was not speaking to me, I entrusted it to Lady Cynthia.
It would likely go faster if she sent it, in any case, because the local post office knew who was who in Mayfair and would make certain the earl’s daughter was not disappointed.
Now to explain to Daniel what I’d done.
He hadn’t visited me since the night Mr. Davis had come upon us, not even to deliver any order of flour or potatoes. He likely was giving Mr. Davis time to cool down, I told myself.
I hoped, as I donned my best frock the next morning, that Daniel would today meet me at the Millburns’. I’d asked James to convey the message for him to meet me there no later than one in the afternoon, but Daniel did not always respond to a summons.
Back in the kitchen, as I was buttoning my coat, Mrs. Bywater entered. I turned to her, heart sinking, waiting for her to command some odd dish to be made for supper that Tess did not have a hope to master on her own.
“What did that nice Mr. Fielding say in his letter yesterday?” she asked me in a too-bright voice. She held out her hand. “Mrs. Redfern told me you had a letter from Shadwell. Do let me read it.”
Some servants dutifully handed over all their correspondence to their masters or mistresses, often because the servants couldn’t read anything themselves.
I shrugged, assuming a nonchalant air. “I put it on the fire.” As I had done so with the envelope, I felt comfortable in the half-truth.
“Shouldn’t waste good fuel. He mostly sent words of instruction and hoped I’d attend chapel more often in the future.
Sunday is my busiest day in the kitchen, but I’ll do my best.”
“Of course you shall.” Mrs. Bywater beamed. “So lucky we live around the corner from such a beautiful church.”
I nodded, impatient to be gone.
“Have that chop ready for tonight, Tess,” Mrs. Bywater continued. “Mrs. Holloway can cook it and some potatoes when she returns. Are you meeting your friend, Mrs. Holloway? What was her name…Grace?”
Tess turned abruptly back to the table, sorting potatoes as though ready to get on with supper then and there.
I managed to school my expression. “Very likely,” I said.
“I hope she is a decent sort of person. Respectable, I mean. A nice outing for tea is one thing, but if she pulls you into music halls and public houses, then you should end the acquaintance.”
“She is the most respectable person in the world,” I said, my ire rising. “Mostly we go for improving walks, or to museums, or for tea in reputable shops.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Bywater blinked as though she’d been certain I spent my days out in debauchery. “That’s all right, then. Perhaps you could bring her around one day, and introduce her. I am pleased you have such a friend, but one likes to make certain.”
“Perhaps,” I said evasively.
Mrs. Bywater switched her gaze to Tess, as though wanting to find fault, but as Tess had begun working industriously, Mrs. Bywater returned her attention to me.
“Off you go, then. Mind you are not late in returning.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I bobbed a little curtsy, relieved when she only nodded and drifted out of the kitchen again.
Tess turned, shooting me a commiserating glance. I finished buttoning my coat, quickly pinned my hat in place, and sped out of the house with a rushed farewell to Tess and Elsie.
I tried to settle my thoughts as I caught an omnibus in Oxford Street and rode as far as Holborn.
There I descended and walked along Farringdon Street and under the Holborn Viaduct to Ludgate Hill, then around St. Paul’s to Cheapside.
I scarcely felt any ache in my feet, because Grace waited at the end of my journey.
Grace greeted me with enthusiasm that always did my heart good. After we hugged as though we hadn’t seen each other in months, we settled into the parlor with Joanna and her girls.
Grace at once asked when I’d begin baking for my stall, she ready for me to set it up straightaway.
“I will need some time to think on it,” I said in protest. “What will be best to make and how many of each. Also, I will have to purchase my own ingredients and then get the finished goods to Portobello Road without Mrs. Bywater poking and prying.”
“You can use my kitchen, of course,” Joanna said without hesitation. “Bring your things here, and bake away. I’m certain our Mrs. Mason will be happy of a few hours free.”
On the other hand, Mrs. Mason, Joanna’s cook, might be annoyed I’d invaded her demesne. “I could only do so until the end of this month,” I reminded her.
Joanna looked startled, then downcast. “Oh, yes. I forgot, in the excitement of your new venture.”
“I will find a way to manage. Thank you, Joanna.”
While the move would bring sorrow to me and mixed feelings to Joanna and Grace, Jane and Mabel were quite eager to go. They took up the topic with delight.
Daniel arrived around one o’clock, to my relief. If not, I’d have had to either send word to Mr. Fielding that I could not come, or venture to Victoria Park myself.
Joanna’s oldest daughter, Jane, was excitedly pouring forth about the garden in the new house—Sam had described it to her after a preliminary visit to the house and his new offices—and how she longed to walk among the flowers.
Joanna joked that she’d change her mind after a few days pulling out weeds, but Jane was undeterred.
Daniel walked in among this merriment, his smile widening. I liked watching his cares lift when he entered the welcoming home.
Once Daniel had enjoyed a cup of tea and some time out of today’s colder wind, I asked him to walk outside to speak to me. Grace and Joanna stared curiously after us, Joanna with a knowing smile.
“Joanna believes I brought you out here for some spooning,” I said when the front door shut and I pulled my coat closer around my shoulders.
Daniel’s eyes sparkled. “That sounds like a fine way to pass the time.”
“Only, you won’t wish to, when I tell you what I have to say.” I cleared my throat.
“Such a dire beginning.” Daniel’s voice remained light, but his eyes held wariness, as though he feared I’d changed my mind about our engagement. “James said you were impatient to speak to me. I would hope only for the pleasure of my company, but I know you are more practical than that.”
“I’ve made an appointment to meet Mr. Fielding,” I said in a rush. “In Victoria Park.”
Daniel’s amusement abruptly vanished. “Kat—”
“I know I have overstepped,” I hurried on.
“I told Mr. Fielding nothing but that I was looking for a woman connected to a case, which is more or less the truth. I simply didn’t mention that the case had nothing to do with a police investigation.
That we know of, anyway. He did find her, though—well, probably found her.
We will know when we speak with him today. ”