Chapter 15
Thursday morning after I finished preparing breakfast with Tess, I took myself to Regent Street and to the flat of Mr. Elgin Thanos.
Mr. Thanos himself opened the door to my knock. “Mrs. Holloway,” he exclaimed into the stairway. “How wonderful to see you.”
“Good morning, Mr. Thanos. You are looking well.”
He was indeed, his dark hair neat, his dark eyes shining at me from behind his spectacles. His waistcoat was misbuttoned, but his cravat was straight and his shoes matched. I saw Lady Cynthia’s hand in that.
“I’ve brought you some scones, Mr. Thanos. With currants, as you like them.”
“Ah, excellent.” Mr. Thanos rubbed his hands. “You are kindness itself, Mrs. Holloway.”
“Do stand aside and let her in,” Lady Cynthia drawled from behind him. “You can’t enjoy the scones until you do.”
“Of course, of course.” Mr. Thanos chuckled at himself and opened the door wider so I could scuttle inside past him.
Lady Cynthia wore a frock today. She usually dressed as a lady when visiting Mr. Thanos so as not, she’d told me, to give his landlady apoplexy.
She was not there alone with him. Daniel rose from the desk behind her, where he was looking through papers of some sort.
I hadn’t seen him since Sunday. He’d been keeping himself from the house to give Mr. Davis time to grow used to the idea that Daniel was my fiancé.
Fiancé.
I grew warm at the thought. I’d never actually had a fiancé before.
My first husband had simply told me he’d marry me and then took me to the church before I had the chance to think it through.
I’d been so enamored of the idea that the strong man, Joe Bristow, would take care of me, that I’d leapt in before realizing what I was doing.
I’d thought him romantic, wishing to rush to the altar with a special license. Now I realized he’d feared that if the banns were read, someone might realize he already had a wife.
How he’d obtained the license, I wasn’t certain, but I knew now that he must have bribed whoever it was, and very likely the vicar of Bow Bells who’d performed the ceremony, with the money he’d stolen.
In spite of whatever license he’d coerced—if he had at all—our marriage had been quite illegal.
Daniel was happy to have a long engagement, letting me take my time. Hence, I now had a fiancé.
I sent him a fond smile as I entered the flat, which bewildered him somewhat.
“Did you find Mr. Grimes?” I asked him. I removed scones from my basket and deposited them on a clean plate Cynthia found for me.
I’d told James that Grace and I had thought we’d spied him Monday afternoon at the railway station, but Daniel shook his head.
“Wherever he’s gone, I don’t know,” he said. “Are you certain it was him?”
“Of course. Mr. Grimes is rather recognizable.”
“Large chap,” Mr. Thanos said as he eagerly took up a scone. He broke off a piece, scattering crumbs. “Long coat, old hat, strides along as though the world will move aside for him? And does, it looks like.”
“That’s him,” I said. “Has Daniel introduced you?”
“No.” Mr. Thanos gestured with the scone. “I see him out of the window, heading this way, I believe.”
Daniel raced past Mr. Thanos to the long front window and peered out. I joined him there. Sure enough, Mr. Grimes hastened along Regent Street, followed by a man I recognized and one I did not.
“Damn and blast,” Daniel muttered.
He turned away to open the door and hurtle down the stairs. I moved out to the stairwell, and Cynthia and Mr. Thanos came behind me.
I saw Daniel flying down the staircase, skimming around its bends, ignoring the beautifully carved and polished handrail. He reached the bottom just as Mr. Grimes, Mr. Fielding, and the unknown man walked inside.
I could not hear everything Daniel growled at Mr. Fielding, but a few curse words floated upward, followed by Mr. Grimes’s good-natured rumble.
The four of them climbed the stairs while Cynthia, Mr. Thanos, and I watched them come.
The man I didn’t know had gray hair poking from beneath a cloth cap and was in a threadbare woolen suit. He had a bulbous nose in a wrinkled face, blue eyes that were quite watery but clear, and wore a frown that said he wasn’t certain he wanted to be present.
I looked him over, and he returned my scrutiny with a scowl. He seemed familiar somehow, and I wondered if I’d seen him somewhere before, though I couldn’t be certain.
“Lady Cynthia.” Mr. Fielding removed his hat and nodded to her as he reached the upper landing. “Mr. Thanos. Mrs. Holloway. What a delightful gathering.”
Mr. Thanos had expressed a similar sentiment upon seeing me, but his had been genuine, while Mr. Fielding’s words, as usual, were tinged with irony.
Mr. Grimes sent me a large grin, ignoring Mr. Fielding’s sardonic tone and Daniel’s glower.
“Happy to see you, Mrs. Holloway,” Mr. Grimes said. “Sorry I couldn’t answer when I heard your daughter calling out to me in the station. Errol asked me to remain incognito, as they say.” He carefully pronounced every syllable of the long word.
“Quite all right, Mr. Grimes.” I gazed curiously at the stranger with them. No one was bothering to introduce him, though I knew full well who he must be. “Shall we go inside?”
“Ah, my manners.” Mr. Thanos gestured to the door. “Welcome, gentlemen. I hope we all fit into my front room. Mrs. Holloway has made the most delicious scones.”
So saying, he held the door for us to trundle back into the flat. Cynthia sent an amused glance at me as Mr. Thanos made certain we ladies entered first.
Once we were shut inside, I spoke before Daniel could. “This is Mr. Patterson?” I asked.
The man in question turned to me. “Everyone knows me, but I’ve never seen you lot before.”
“Apologies, sir,” Mr. Thanos said at once. “I am Elgin Thanos. May I present Lady Cynthia Shires and Mrs. Holloway.”
The man started, then peered at Cynthia and me in uncertainty. “Beg pardon, your ladyship, ma’am,” he said in somewhat more respectful tones.
“And Mr. McAdam,” Mr. Thanos continued.
Mr. Patterson switched his gaze to Daniel, his eyes flickering, and then he turned abruptly from him and shook his head.
“It were a long time ago.” Mr. Patterson cleared his throat. “I don’t remember nothing.”
“Sit over there.” Mr. Fielding pointed at a chair, sounding like a man who was quickly losing patience. “The ladies don’t stand on ceremony, but be civil to them.”
Mr. Patterson removed his hat, shot a glance at Lady Cynthia, and sidled shakily to the seat Mr. Fielding indicated.
As the others seated themselves or chose a place to stand, I fetched the plate of scones.
“Let us be calm and discuss things, shall we?” I said, pushing the plate at Mr. Patterson.
“Don’t mind if I do.” He stripped off his gloves and took a scone between stubby fingers.
I offered to Mr. Grimes next, who happily snatched one up. Mr. Fielding did not refuse, though Daniel shook his head when I approached him. He was tense, angry.
“So this is the man we found in the records?” Lady Cynthia asked when no one else spoke. “I presume you’ve brought him because he indeed was the friend of Mrs. Kerr from long ago.”
“He claims to be,” Mr. Fielding said, licking his fingertips. “I decided it would be safer if Grimes kept watch on him this week, and then we accompanied him through the streets rather than hoping he reached the meeting spot on his own.”
“You knew Mr. Banks, then?” I asked Mr. Patterson outright. “Howard Banks?”
“Yeah, I knew ’im.” Mr. Patterson took another generous bite of scone. I had to wait until his mouth was clear before he went on. “Quiet enough young fellow. Went off to war. Jess liked him, worried for him.”
According to Mr. Fielding’s letter, Mrs. Kerr’s name had been Jessica. “And the others?” I asked. “Who were the other children Mrs. Kerr took in?”
Mr. Patterson stared at me. “I’m not likely to remember after all this time, am I?”
“Don’t be rude,” Mr. Fielding said severely. “Tell us what you do remember.”
“I went over all this with you,” Mr. Patterson stated.
Mr. Grimes wiped crumbs from his mouth. “You did. Tell Mrs. Holloway now, and Danny.”
He didn’t have to sound threatening or glare or even send Mr. Patterson a warning look. Mr. Grimes simply went back to his scone, but Mr. Patterson sat up straight and answered meekly.
“I knew Jess Kerr, and better than most. She were a good woman, and there weren’t many of them in our parts, I can tell you.”
“Your parts meaning Bethnal Green?” I asked.
“There, Stepney, other places. She were one of Lady Golden’s lasses…” He trailed off with a glance at Cynthia. “Er, I mean…”
“She lived in a bawdy house,” Cynthia said comfortably. “McAdam has told me about it. I am not going to swoon, if you are worried.”
Mr. Patterson flushed. “Your pardon,” he mumbled again.
“It weren’t pretty, where she came from, but Jess had a good soul.
She let kiddies what would be stuck in bad houses live with her.
Most were horrible brats and ungrateful, but she didn’t mind.
There were one or two good ones, like Howie Banks.
He went off to the army not long before Jess died.
” His eyes grew moist. “Not fair, someone like Jess being taken off, when more evil people get to live and prosper.”
“It is the way of the world, unfortunately,” I said with sympathy. “If you can just tell us the names you do remember.”
I retrieved my notebook from my coat pocket and a pencil, ready to write.
Mr. Patterson glanced at the stony face of Mr. Fielding and the congenial one of Mr. Grimes. Daniel he avoided looking at altogether.
“Lot of Janes and Marys for the lasses,” Mr. Patterson said. “I don’t know their surnames, and those might not be their names at all. For the lads, lots of Toms, Johns, and the like. Don’t recall any called Daniel, as the vicar here keeps pressing me for.”
“What about one called Robbie?” I asked, my pencil scratching. “The woman who lived next door mentioned him.”
Mr. Patterson studied the floor as he finished off his scone. “Don’t remember, missus. Sorry.”
“Any others?” I asked impatiently. “Those you recall perfectly, as you did Mr. Banks?”
Mr. Patterson wiped his mouth with his hand. “Maybe one or two.”
“Tell the lady,” Mr. Fielding said.
Mr. Patterson adjusted his collar. “These aren’t names you want to bandy about. They were mean lads when they lived with Mrs. Kerr, and they’re mean blokes now.”
“Even so.” I let my pencil hover over the page.
“Eddie Barlow.” Mr. Patterson said it so softly I had to lean to catch it. “Fergus Draper,” he whispered the second. “But you didn’t hear about them from me.”
I wrote the names carefully into my book. “Anyone else?”
Mr. Patterson shook his head. “That’s all I remember. As I say, most were Toms and Janes. Even Jess didn’t know their real names. She didn’t try to find their families, or anything, because what they came from was probably bad places.”
True enough. Desperate families sometimes sold their children to brothels or madams to feed the rest of the household, or else they turned them out to scratch for their own livings at an early age. I’d been terrified when I’d had Grace that such things would happen to her.
“Don’t talk to Draper or Barlow,” Mr. Patterson went on. “They ain’t good men. Would make short work of a vicar, not to mention a ladyship and a respectable missus.”
“They won’t make short work of me,” Mr. Grimes said with good humor. “I’ll find them and have a chat.”
“Not if you’re from South London,” Mr. Patterson warned. “Very territorial are those lads.”
“I’ve heard of Draper,” Mr. Fielding said. “Runs a gaming place in Shoreditch, near Hoxton Square.”
Mr. Patterson regarded him sullenly. “What does a vicar know about gaming rooms?”
“Quite a lot.” Mr. Fielding gave him a brief smile. “I keep an eye on what goes on near my parish. Never know when I’ll need to rescue sinners.”
Daniel said nothing, but I could see that he was taking in all the information and storing it for later use, as was his way. I took time to enter the details into my book, not having the ability to keep it all in my head as Daniel did.
“What happened to the rest of the children?” I asked when I’d finished writing. “You were the one to empty and close down Mrs. Kerr’s house, were you not?”
“Who told you that?” Mr. Patterson bristled. “Yes, I moved her things out for her, and sold a part of them. She told me to. She needed the cash more than the belongings, didn’t she, poor lass?”
“And the children she looked after?” I repeated. “If you were the last to leave the house, what became of them?”
They might have all run away once their benefactress was gone, but I wanted to hear it from Mr. Patterson, without handing him a plausible lie to tell us. The youngest ones, like the boy called Robbie, couldn’t have run, in any case.
Mr. Patterson took in our stares, all of them watchful or belligerent, except for Mr. Grimes, who waited calmly.
“Took ’em to a workhouse,” Mr. Patterson mumbled. He shrugged as Daniel’s scowl turned formidable, and Mr. Fielding, without changing expression, became palpably more dangerous. “What else was I to do? Jess were dying, and the kids was nothing to do with me, were they?”