The Prince and the Quakeress - Plaidy Jean - Страница 18

Elizabeth spoke to her. Her voice was low and soft; vet, thought Elizabeth, there was sparkle in her; she might well be ready for adventure. And why not? This sombre shop was no place for a beauty like that.

It’s my duty, Elizabeth told herself, to bring her out of it. If I needed to salve my conscience, which I don’t because I don’t possess one, but if I did, I should have a very good reason for proceeding with this most amusing affair.

She graciously took her leave.

What next? There was a man of whom she had heard who kept a house in Pall Mall; he had worked for several people at Court and she had heard that he could supply certain services as efficiently as any. He could arrange meetings in the most secret and unlikely places; he was discreet; ready to help any in need of help. He was expensive, but this after all was the Prince of Wales.

Masked and cloaked she called on Mr. Jack Ems of Pall Mall—an assumed name doubtless, which added to the excitement. Not that she would give her name. He received her in a beautifully furnished apartment and she told him that she wished to arrange a meeting between two people.

Nothing could be simpler. Was the meeting to take place in London?

Most decidedly. The gentleman concerned was very young and of very high degree. Mr. Ems would be surprised if he knew how high.

Very young and very highly placed. Her ladyship could rely on Mr. Ems’ discretion.

‘I must,’ said Elizabeth. ‘If I could not this could cause consternation in very high circles, in roy...’ She pretended to stop herself in time and Mr. Ems was duly impressed. A man of his alertness would know that she was referring to the Prince of Wales; and he would bring forth all his ingenuity to execute this commission with all his power and skill.

‘The difficulty is the lady. She must be sounded. Not even the exalted young gentleman has an idea of how she will receive this proposal.’

‘I am to...er...sound her?’

‘You are to find some means of sounding her.’

‘I will do it.’

‘Don’t be too optimistic. She is a Quakeress, very sternly brought up. You will have to go to work very carefully.’

‘Ah.’ He was shaken. He could deal with most difficulties, but this was a big one. ‘If your ladyship will give me all particulars I will do whatever is possible and I can tell you this: if Jack Ems can’t bring about the desired result, then, my lady, no one can.’

‘I am sure of it. She is Hannah Lightfoot, niece to the Quaker linen-draper of St. James’s Market.’

He nodded grimly.

‘Do not attempt to approach me. I will call on you in three days’ time and I hope that by then you will have something to tell me.’

• • •

Jack Ems was in a quandary. He had visited the linen-draper’s and made some purchases, for his wife, he explained, who was unable to leave her home. The linen draper himself served him. Jack Ems knew the type. Stern, upright, moral; if he made the sort of proposal he had come to make to such a man he would promptly be shown the door. No bribes would suffice. If the King himself commanded Mr. Wheeler to hand over his niece Mr. Wheeler would firmly refuse. A weighty problem, and Mr. Ems was searching his mind to find some way out.

He had walked far, he said, having come from Hammersmith. The roads were so bad and the mud of Piccadilly was unbelievable. Might he sit down for a moment? He was given an opportunity to observe Quaker hospitality when Mrs. Wheeler brought him a glass of ale.

He sat sipping it, listening to the conversation of Mi. Wheeler and his customers—ladies from Knightsbridge and Bayswater who had been dealing with Mr. Wheeler for years. They enquired after the family. And how was Miss Rebecca’s toothache? Little Hannah was growing fast...

Little Hannah! Jack Ems pricked up his ears and hoped for some comment on that other Hannah. None came.

If she would appear in the shop, if he had a chance of seeing her...He went on sipping his ale, desperately seeking to form a plan.

Good luck was with him. A young woman came into the shop, and he was immediately alert. She was petty and young, and being a student of human nature—as his business demanded he should be—he detected a certain petulance about her.

‘Good afternoon, Jane. Hannah is sewing in her room. Thou mayest go up.’

Mrs. Wheeler came over to him to ask if he would like more ale.

‘You are most kind, but no thank you. That will suffice. I have been listening to the enquiries after your children. You are fortunate to have a family. My wife and I alas, we have no children.’

Mrs. Wheeler was all compassion. That was sad, very sad. Yes, they had a full household, and she counted that a blessing from God. Two boys and three girls.

Surely not the young lady who had just gone in. Mrs. Wheeler could not possibly be the mother of a girl of that age!

Oh no, that was Jane. She had worked for them and had left to be married. A good girl but a little flighty, so it was well she was married.

And married well?

Mrs. Wheeler put her head on one side. ‘She married an apprentice to a glass-cutter in Cockspur Street. My niece misses her. They were of an age.’

‘So you have a niece living here too?’

‘Oh yes, my husband brought her and her mother here before our marriage. Hannah is like a daughter to us.’

Jack nodded and said they were singularly blessed indeed. And so, he believed, was he, to have gained so much information. He was pinning his hopes on the flighty servant.

• • •

It was not difficult to strike up a conversation with Jane. Jane liked to go about the streets of London and Mrs. Betts gave her plenty of free time. She would shop for her mistress and enjoyed conversing over the counter with the younger and gayer shop assistants. Sometimes she met Hannah in Ludgate Hill and they would go into Axfords together—Hannah to shop for the Wheelers, Jane for the Betts.

It was in a shop that Jack Ems made Jane’s acquaintance. It was very easy to knock into her, upset her purchases, apologize profusely, pick them up and that gave the opportunity.

What was such a pretty girl doing as beast of burden? Would she allow him to carry her purchases for her?

‘As far as Cockspur Street?’

‘To the ends of the earth.’

Jane was enjoying herself. Her apprentice was a good man but unexciting. He would never be able to provide the laces and ribbons she saw in shop windows. It was a pity, because they were so becoming. Jack Ems summed up her frivolous nature and decided that she would be ready to go a certain way for a little reward and some excitement, so he lost no time in coming to the point.

She had a friend, Miss Hannah Lightfoot, the niece of her old master.

Jane was a little disappointed that the man she had thought was her admirer was after all interested in Hannah; but she was practical enough to realize the inevitability of this and there was a strong streak of kindness in her nature. If she were dissatisfied with her own lot she believed it to be an improvement on Hannah’s. So she thrust aside her disappointment and was ready to tell all she could of Hannah.

Hannah was beautiful...anyone could see that. It was a shame that she should be shut away in the Quaker’s shop. Hannah was twenty-three years old...no longer so young. And Hannah had never had a chance.

Hannah was soon going to have a miraculous chance. If Jane would help him.

Jane would like to help him, but she would have to be careful.

It was also a shame, he pointed out, that Jane did not have the pretty things she craved for. If she helped she would be so well rewarded that she could buy some of them. What would Jane have to do? First she must find out from Miss Lightfoot whether she would be prepared to make an assignation with a very important young gentleman who had fallen in love with her.