Chapter 23 #2
A chill went through her as Selina’s warning to leave London echoed in her ears. ‘I’m a little scared of what others will think of us, too, if it comes out in the open. I doubt you’ll be the only person to condemn me.’
She took a deep breath and looked him directly in the eye. He remained stone-faced, apart from a slight deepening of the line between his brows.
‘We will get the girls out,’ she said. ‘And once we have, you can do what you like with whatever information Ruth and the other girls give you. See if Augusta can be prosecuted for pimping. Bring the drugging into it, if necessary. I will do anything I can to right the wrongs I’ve been involved in.
I have no right to ask you a favour, but if you can keep our names out of it, that might help to keep us safe. ’
Danny turned away and walked slowly back to the window.
He leant his palms on the sill and stared down into the road outside.
Gwen’s urge was to follow him and put her hands on those broad shoulders, try and convince him of how remorseful she was, but it had never been her place to do that and now it was even less so.
She sat silently, prepared to wait for as long as it took for him to deliver his judgement.
Prepared to face any denunciation he laid on her.
He continued to stare out of the window.
Gwen stood, but felt slightly lightheaded, wishing she had a cup of tea to hand to steady her. The last thing she wanted was to keel over and need Danny’s assistance.
‘Tomorrow is when Miss Rosewood and her friend and I are going to try to get the women out. We’d like you to come, if you will. I imagine Ruth would be happy to see you.’
She walked to the desk and wrote the address of The Rook and Wren on a piece of paper.
‘I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I want you to know that I never intended any of this to happen.’
He nodded almost absentmindedly. Gwen decided that there was little point in continuing the conversation, that he had more than enough to think about, so she let herself out of the room.
Downstairs, Mr Everson stood at the reception desk.
She gave him a curt nod and left. If her next conversation went as planned, she would be needing a room somewhere, but she doubted she would be welcome at Godwin’s.
Gwen’s conscience told her that she owed it to Archibald to at least make one last attempt to repair the rift in their marriage, but the tender spot on her jaw and the nagging ache in her belly (her heart having apparently given up all interest) made her reluctant to try.
They ate in silence that evening, Archibald accompanying the cheese and leek pie with a pint of pale ale that he swigged directly from the bottle.
After eating, he left the table without speaking to Gwen and went into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
She sagged with relief. If he had been affectionate her decision would have been harder, but now her conscience was clear.
She went upstairs to Archie’s attic room and packed the few valuables and favourite kitchen utensils she had into her trunk.
In went Nain Bethan’s book of cures. She might spurn the use of opium and cocaine, but many other remedies were genuinely helpful and she saw no reason why she couldn’t make and sell some of them.
She added the shell box, then thought better of it and tipped the money into a purse, which she pinned to the inside sleeve of her coat, thanking fashion for voluminous sleeves.
There wasn’t much of her earnings left, now that Archibald’s medical bill had been paid, but it was enough to pay for a week in a cheap boarding house and a plain diet while she considered what to do next.
She lay on the bed, thinking of the next day and scarcely daring to wonder what would happen afterwards. She expected to be restless on what would be the last night in her home, but was asleep long before the church bells tolled eleven.
The following morning, she dragged her trunk downstairs before Archibald woke, and took it into the pharmacy, leaving it by the door. She watched out of the back window until she saw the baker’s wife coming into the yard to use the privy, then caught her on the way back.
‘I’m afraid I’ve been called away. A family emergency,’ Gwen told her. ‘Please, will you look in on Archibald tomorrow? I’m not sure when I’ll be back.’
She handed over three shillings to the surprised woman.
‘This should be enough for bread for the next week, and if you could speak to your charwoman about whether she has time to do for him, too, I’d appreciate it.’
She went back inside, boiled the kettle to make the last pot of tea she’d make for Archibald.
Her eyes fell on the Kilner jar containing the newest batch of tincture.
Her first instinct was to pour it down the privy, but she hesitated as she reached the door.
She had promised one bottle to Mrs MacAllister and another to Selina, both of which she would deliver.
She had no taste for making it anymore, but this was her hard work.
If she controlled who had it, nobody would profit from it whom she did not believe was worthy.
Mrs MacAllister would use it sensibly and shouldn’t have to be in pain because of what other people had done with theirs.
As to Selina, Gwen found she didn’t care what she did with it.
She filtered the tincture into the four bottles that she had set aside for the purpose and sealed the tops with wax.
She would deliver one to Jenny to pass on to Mrs MacAllister and post Selina’s, but buried the remaining two deep in her trunk, wrapped in a pair of drawers.
Augusta would never get her hands on them, and they might be needed at some later date.
She put on her coat and hat, poured the tea and waited for Archibald to come downstairs, sitting calmly at the table until she heard his footsteps. It was only then that her stomach began to flutter with nerves.
He gave her a brusque nod then looked at her again, noticing how she was dressed.
‘Are you going somewhere?’
She poured him some tea and carried it round to him.
‘I am leaving, Archibald. I wanted to say goodbye in person. I thought about writing you a letter, but that would be a disservice.’
She watched realisation descend on his face.
‘You can’t do that.’
‘But I am.’
Archibald walked to the window and stood before it, blocking out the light. Then he turned and faced Gwen, his hands behind his back and wearing a solemn expression.
‘Mrs Walters, I do not know what has possessed you these last few months. I shall put it down to the frailty of women, which I believe descends in later years. Let’s say no more of this. Now take off your hat and coat and stop being silly.’
His condescending tone riled her and far from persuading her to obey, had the opposite effect.
‘No.’