After Miss Plum's adulation, my aunt's remarks struck me as blasphemous. She admitted that the Prince was a well-made fellow, but claimed he was a horrible prig. The court was already suffering from his dull, sanctimonious habits. As for her Majesty—I realized how carefully Miss Plum had censored the reports that filtered into our secluded world. For the first time I heard the nasty rumors about the Queen and her minister, Lord Melbourne.

  There were horrid little verses about 'Mrs. Melbourne.' Other verses accused the Queen of being fat; of wearing the 'britches,' as they put it; and of other qualities my aunt did not quite dare voice aloud. She repeated the lines, but camouflaged their significant words with a mumble and a leer. I can still recall one relatively innocuous couplet which concerned the effect on the Queen of those beautiful moustaches of Prince Albert's:

  '... that dear moustache which caused her first to

  feel, And filled her bosom with pre-nuptial zeal!'

  I restrained the indignant comment that came to my lips, but my aunt saw my look of outrage, and it re-doubled her mirth. She guffawed till she was breathless.

  By midafternoon the effect of an ample luncheon overcame her enjoyment of baiting me, and she fell into a doze. She really was a hideous sight as she snored, openmouthed and asprawl across from me. I concentrated my attention on the view from the window, but it was not until evening that I saw a sight that made me exclaim. My cry woke my aunt, who thrust her head out the window to see what had excited me.

  'Yes, yes,' she mumbled irritably. 'It is St. Paul's. Thank God we are almost there. I am half-dead with fatigue. Now, girl, don't gawk. It is not modish.'

  I couldn't have stopped myself from gawking if I had cared about being modish. I had heard of London for so long, from the lucky girls whose parents lived there, and who visited them on holidays. The metropolis of two million souls, the largest city in the world; with its amazing gas-lit streets and fine buildings, with pleasure gardens and palaces and magnificent churches. There were lions and tigers in the Surrey Zoo, and a tortoise so gigantic it could carry children on its back. I was too old for that now (there was a pang of regret in that admission); but I yearned to see the panorama that showed the Great Fire. Amelia had seen it; she had cried out and tried to run away, it looked so real, but her papa had laughed, and held her. And the Queen. Perhaps I might see the Queen...

  I must have spoken aloud. There was a vulgar snort from my aunt.

  'You'll see her Majesty and your pretty Prince. And all the royal whelps as well. Lud, they say she is breeding again.'

  She condescended to comment on some of the sights as we passed through the crowded streets.

  The rattle of the wheels grew deafening as we passed from country roads to cobblestones, but it was the roar of voices that dizzied me. Everyone seemed to be shouting. I had never seen so many people together in all my life. And such people! There were servants in gilded liveries; young men with muttonchops whiskers and tall hats; workmen in shirt sleeves and little paper caps; vendors crying their various wares; beggars...

  I pulled my head back in the window, and my aunt, following my repelled gaze, laughed aloud.

  'You'll see worse before you've been in London a day. What, are there no beggars in Canterbury?'

  'His face,' I whispered. 'That great red ... And his eye—the one eye—'

  'All false,' my aunt said cheerfully. 'The scar washes off at night, you may be sure; if the fellow washes, which is not likely.'

  'And the man with no legs?'

  'Tucked up under him on that little platform and strapped tight to his body. Don't be so gullible.'

  She pointed out a tall, melancholy-looking man in a blue swallow-tailed coat and tall hat and trousers which had once been white. He was harassed by a crowd of grinning urchins, whose comments I could not make out.

  'One of the Blue Devils,' my aunt remarked. 'Lud, girl, haven't you heard of Bobby Peel's boys? He had great plans for putting down crime in the streets, but you can still have the shoes stolen right off your feet walking down Oxford Street.'

  I went back to my gawking. The streets were handsome, with beautiful houses and tall trees. The air rang with a din of hammering and pounding, and buildings were going up everywhere. When I commented on this, my aunt snorted. Every change in the city was a source of aggravation to her.

  'More and more people, more and more dirt and crime,' she grumbled. 'The city was well enough fifty—that is, some years ago. Now they are destroying all the old landmarks just to make a mess. They've torn down the old Royal Mews for this new square, with Nelson's Column, as it's to be. The shops are fine, but—faugh, girl, get your head in and put up the window. The stench is enough to make you sick.'

  I obeyed without demur. We had come into a section of narrow streets whose old houses leaned on one another like crippled beggars. The smells were concentrated and remarkable. Miss Plum's drains were not the best in the world, but I had never encountered anything like this.

  Gathering dusk and the dusty window made it hard to see out now, and after my initial glimpse I was not eager to do so.

  'Why do we come this way?' I asked my aunt, who was waving a bottle of scent fastidiously before her nose.

  'Oh, these sections are all around,' she said indifferently. 'One can hardly avoid them.'

  'It is so dark. Where are the gaslights I have heard so much about?'

  'You don't suppose they would waste them in this street, do you?'

  'This sort of street is where I would suppose they are most needed,' I retorted. 'Crime flourishes best in darkness, surely, and the wealthy and wellborn do not commit crimes.'

  The dusk was deepening; my aunt was only a lumpish shadow across from me. I heard her laugh.

  'I must present you to my Lord Ashley,' she said mockingly.

  'A pretty husband, to be purchased for ten thousand a year?' I suggested, with equal asperity.

  'It would take more than ten thousand a year to buy the Earl of Shaftesbury's heir, even if he were single,' my aunt replied coolly. 'Lower your sights, my girl; our family blood is not distinguished enough for such gentlemen. But you would get on with him; Ashley is a fiery reformer, always ranting about the rights of the poor.'

  'I am no reformer.'

  'I trust not. It ill becomes a woman of breeding to take any stand on politics, much less such an unpopular stand as radicalism.'

  With a suddenness that made me blink we emerged from the dark alleys into a broad avenue. Here were the famous gas lamps; I had never seen anything like them, they made the night bright as day. And the shops! Great glass windows displayed a profusion of wares that made me stare greedily. Smaller gas jets within the show windows illumined the products on display: bonnets and gowns, magnificent jewelry, rolls of India muslin and cashmere, gloves and shawls and white satin slippers for evening ... There were other commodities, of course; but these were the ones that caught my eye.

  'Regent Street is a fine sight,' said my aunt complacently, her civic pride touched by my exclamations of delight. 'The shops and these new plate-glass windows, I own, are a kind of change I do not regret. Don't fall out of the window,' she added, not unkindly. 'You will have ample opportunity to go shopping.'

  With that promise, and the glittering sights before me, I thought London must be the finest place in the world. I had forgotten the foul alleys. I did not recognize them for what they were: a portent, and a warning.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The following weeks were a bustle of milliners, dressmakers, and shops. I enjoyed it heartily. My aunt was in excellent spirits. She acquired several new frocks herself, and a cloak lined with fur. She even took me to see some of the sights of the city. We visited the zoo and the Tower, and one evening, escorted by a toothless old beau of hers, we went to watch the spectacles at Vauxhall. My aunt drank punch, but would not allow me to do so; she and Colonel Parker became very merry as the evening went on, and exchanged jokes that were incomprehensible to me, but at which they laughed very much. Many of these jokes seemed to refer to the young ladies who strolled along the leafy paths arm in arm with various gentlemen. They were lovely ladies, ruffled and jeweled and very pink of cheek. When I commented on their healthy complexions, and remarked that they must take much exercise, my aunt laughed so hard she fell into a fit of coughing, in the course of which she tumbled off her chair. She had to be helped to her coach by the Colonel, who was not in much better condition himself. By the time we arrived at our door the Colonel had fallen asleep and was snoring so loudly that the interior of the coach shook. My aunt was in better case by that time; with the assistance of the stalwart young coachman she made her way into the house, directing the driver to take the Colonel home and put him to bed.

  I had heard of gentlemen being the worse for wine, but it had never occurred to me that a lady might take too much to drink. That naive ideal, like so many others, did not survive long after my arrival in London.

  When I was invited next morning to see my aunt, the room was in profound shadow, yet not so profound that I failed to note her color, which was very odd indeed. I was prepared to offer sympathy and tender ministrations; but she wanted none of that. She had summoned me for only one reason, to caution me not to speak of our Vauxhall visit to Mr. Beam. We were to pay a visit to the lawyer that afternoon. Neither of us was looking forward to it, and I suggested that perhaps we ought to put it off, if she felt so ill.

  'Curse the girl,' said my aunt violently. 'Don't you understand, Miss Innocent, that I would avoid the old fool if I possibly could? But we have overshot our allowance with all the things I was forced to buy for you, and we must have more money.'

  'Do you mean that Mr. Beam gives us money?' I asked. 'I thought the money was mine.'

  My aunt groaned, and the maid handed her a glass. Lady Russell gulped down the liquid, shuddered violently, and sat up a little straighter.

  'That is better. The money is yours, but naturally you have no control over it. By the terms of your father's will, Mr. Beam must approve all expenditures until your husband assumes that task. Hence our visit. For pity's sake, guard your unfortunate tongue when we are with him, and let me do the talking. And in the meantime, go away, so that I may fortify myself for the ordeal.'

  Mr. Beam's office was as gloomy and ancient as the man himself, but it was not nearly so clean. The stairs were very dark, and a peculiar musty smell pervaded the place. The outer office was almost as dark as the stairs, owing to the fact that the narrow windows had not been washed in goodness knows how long. It was filled with high desks and stools, each of the latter occupied by a stoop-shouldered man bent over a huge book and scribbling away for dear life. The scratching of the pens made an odd sound, like Miss Plum's chickens scrabbling in the yard.

  An elderly man hopped down from his stool and addressed my aunt by name. To my surprise—for he did not seem the sort of man who would impress my aunt—she simpered and smiled at him.

  'My dear Lucy, let me present Mr. Beam's chief clerk, a very competent clerk indeed—a man upon whom Mr. Beam depends'—with a significant glance at me—'Mr. Harkins.'

  Mr. Harkins bowed.

  'Mr. Beam is expecting you,' he began, and was about to continue, when the inner door burst open and a young man emerged.

  Perhaps 'emerged' is the wrong word; he stopped where he was, in the doorway, his back turned to us, and continued a harangue which the closed door had hitherto kept us from hearing.

  '... one law for the rich and another for the poor! You, sir, and your fellows in the law, are like Belshazzar. The writing is plain upon the wall, and you cannot read it!'

  Harkins trotted across the room and tapped the speaker urgently on the shoulder.

  'The visitors, Mr. Jonathan,' he exclaimed. 'The ladies! Your language, Mr. Jonathan, if you please!'

  I could not observe that Mr. Jonathan had said anything very shocking; I concluded that Harkins knew him well enough to anticipate the next part of the speech. The old man's admonition was successful. The young man stopped speaking and turned, with the same violent energy that had marked his speech.

  He seemed the tallest, thinnest young man I had ever seen, with a head too large for his body and a shock of unkempt black hair. If his head was too heavy for his thin frame, his features were too large for his face: a great jutting beak of a nose, bristly black eyebrows that, like his hair, needed trimming, and a mouth which, being still open in the midst of his interrupted tirade, showed teeth as large and white as a wolf's.

  My aunt, unperturbed and unimpressed, let out a loud, haughty 'hem!'

  'Announce us, please,' she said; and, as the young man made no move to do so, but stared fixedly at us, she struck the floor sharply with her stick. 'Sir! You stare!'

  A heavy tread sounded from within the inner office, and beyond the gaping young man I saw Mr. Beam's grizzled head. He was scowling hideously, and my heart lurched; then I realized his anger was not directed at me.

  'You do indeed stare, Jonathan,' he said brusquely. 'Where are your manners, sir? Step back at once and let the ladies come in. Lady Russell, I believe you have met Mr. Scott. Miss Cartwright, allow me to present my assistant, who is not always so ill-bred as he presently appears.'

  I think that with the speech Mr. Beam administered a sharp jab in the ribs to his assistant, for Mr. Scott started nervously. To my amusement, a wave of crimson rolled up from below his wrinkled cravat and swept grandly up his face, till it disappeared into the untidy jet hair on his brow. I had never in my life seen a man blush. But then I had not seen many men.

  Lady Russell swept forward, wielding her stick like a whisk broom and pulling me with her, passing me from her right hand to her left with the skill of a juggler. Clearly I was not to be contaminated by the slightest contact with Mr. Scott. He had withdrawn himself as much as possible; he was standing on tiptoe against the doorframe, with his chin pulled in and his shoulders pressed to the paneling. He looked so ridiculous that I couldn't help giggling as I was dragged past; and I was delighted to see a second, even darker blush trace along the path of the first.

  He followed us into the office and, at Mr. Beam's request, closed the door. He had regained something of his composure and in an attempt to make amends tried to set a chair for Lady Russell. She snatched it out of his hand and sat down, with a thud that shook the papers on the desk.

  After that inauspicious beginning, the interview did not go well. My aunt's request for money was received with what would have been, in any other man, a cry of outrage. With Mr. Beam it took the form of a long rumbling sound and a series of alarming movements of his mouth.

  'You have already exceeded your allowance for the entire quarter,' he said severely. 'You must cut expenses.'

  'Just like a man,' said my aunt, fluttering her scanty lashes at him. 'Sir, I vow, you do not know the condition of this child's—er—belongings. It was necessary to replace every item! And the house—and the servants—'

  'And the carriage,' Mr. Beam interrupted rudely. 'And the enormous amounts of food and drink, madam—enough for a family of twelve. Do you entertain so much?'

  I had not realized that Mr. Beam went over our household bills. My aunt did not care for the reminder; her eyes narrowed wickedly, but she held on to her temper.

  'But of course I entertain. What is my function, after all? And what is the purpose of all this, but to entertain and be entertained?'

  Mr. Beam started to speak and then checked himself, with a glance at me.

  'Jonathan,' he said. 'Miss Cartwright would like some refreshment. Take her into your office.'

  Mr. Jonathan's room was smaller and in greater disorder than that of his superior. Such a chaos of books and papers and dust you cannot imagine; he had to clear a chair and wipe it with his pocket handkerchief before I could sit down. Leaning against the desk, with his hands shoved into his trouser pockets, he paid no attention to me but stood with his head cocked as if listening. Naturally the door was open. The door to Mr. Beam's room had been firmly closed by that gentleman as we left, and I could hear only a murmur of voices from within. It was that sound which held Mr. Jonathan's attention, and the sobriety of his expression suggested that he expected some difficulty.

  Since he was not looking at me, I felt quite free to observe him. In repose, his features were not so displeasing as I had thought. I came to the conclusion that his was the sort of face that would improve with maturity; his features were too severe for his age in life. Having reached this decision I had nothing more to do; and finding the silence tedious, I ventured to remark,

  'You appear, sir, to expect something to happen. Will my aunt and Mr. Beam come to blows, do you think?'

  'Mr. Beam would never strike a woman,' said Jonathan. 'But in the case of Lady Russell, the provocation is extreme.'

  'You are speaking of my aunt.'

  'And you, of all people, must be aware of how provoking she can be.'

  I could not help smiling. Jonathan's mouth twitched, but instead of returning my smile, he burst out.

  'It is all so stupid! Putting you out of the room as if you were an infant! It is your life they are planning in there, your fortune which is being spent.'

  'But it would be foolish of me to remain,' I said. 'I have no understanding of business matters.'

  'Why not?'

  'Why,' I said, surprised, 'why, because I do not ... because I am ...'

  'Young and ignorant,' said Jonathan. 'But these defects can be cured.'

  'Really, sir,' I exclaimed. 'I don't want them to be cured! Business is tedious. I should never understand it. And why should I, when I have Mr. Beam—and you—to handle my affairs for me?'

  My flagrant compliment had no effect. Jonathan regarded me with disfavor, his hands still rudely in his pockets, his heavy brows drawn down.

  'You should understand your affairs because you are the one whom they concern. At least Mr. Beam is honest. Not all your advisers will have his integrity. And even he—'

 

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