Aftermath (11)

As satisfactory a conclusion as it might (1)

Leda continued to adore Clorinda – her fondness grew if anything greater as time went by – but still, it was also agreeable to feel that she had a life of her own. Indeed, Clorinda had remarked that one would sure feel very uncomfortable to be addressed in the terms of The Bard’s sonnet – Being your slave, what should I do but tend/Upon the hours and times of your desire? At which Leda had entirely concurred.

So, here she was, returning to her very comfortable and well-kept quarters in Mrs Mitchell’s lodging-house for ladies that were obliged to go out earning their livings. And there were the prints upon the wall, and the books lined up on top of the chest of drawers, and the what-not with various nick-nacks that she had picked up in curiosity shops. And Jed had brought up her trunk, so she might be about sorting out her things and what would need sending to the laundry.

But first, would go dine at the uncommon good table that was kept here for lodgers, and exchange gossip with the others in residence.

Did not see Maude Coggin at table, but Leda supposed that 'twas the bustling time for Mamzelle Bridgette.

However, later, while she was putting her clothes into drawers or into the laundry basket, there was a tap on her door, and opening it she saw Miss Coggin, that invited her to come over and take a glass of port.

La, port, is it? sure you are doing well!

Indeed I am, said Maude, conveying her into the room and closing the door, did those clacking tongues not mention it? – well, I suppose 'tis somewhat stale news here by now. I am made partner in Mamzelle Bridgette.

Partner! exclaimed Leda, quite flopping plump into the chair she had been gestured towards. Well, that is very distinguished. And must give a fine secure feeling!

O, indeed so, sighed Maude, handing Leda a glass of port and seating herself. Not that I was in any great fret – had had approaches from other places – but even so, it makes a difference. Very good business-like terms – my dear, since I was unable to have what I am sure would have been your excellent advice, I took the liberty of asking your young man –

Leda blinked. Bert?

– that you told me used to be a lawyer’s clerk. What a civil obliging young fellow he is – you could do a lot worse –

Well, Bert Edwards was not very like to disclose his other self, the Duchess of Clerkenwell Green, on such an occasion!

Why, he is certainly an agreeable companion, but I am not sure whether in his present place he would be able to wed –

And it is an excellent good place, Maude conceded. But what have you been about?

Leda gave a little groan and said, would not bore Miss Coggin with the full account – Manchester cotton-mill owner had supposed some rival was about hindering matters in the mill – damaging machines, slowing 'em down &C – had turned out his own miserliness over having looms properly repaired – hiring enough hands to cover the work – &C – was bringing about his troubles. And while I was there undertook some advizing of householders on preventing burglary.

One could see that Maude was in no hurry to interrogate further! This was entirely a prudent dull tale to explain Leda’s absence from her usual haunts while she had been masquerading as Leo Harper.

While Maude had her own budget of gossip about what went forth at Mamzelle Bridgette.

But soon yawned and stretched and remarked that sure it was very good to have so much business upon hand, but required rising very early!

So Leda drank up the last few drops of her port and took her leave.

The following morn, dressed in the sober garments of a young women that followed a respectable occupation, she set off to walk to Matt Johnson’s investigation agency. Sure there had been convocations with Matt, in particular once they had uncovered all the details of Rathe’s plots, and Matt was already about that business of putting out information that there was rewards for intelligence concerning certain pieces of fine jewellery, with no questions asked. For asking too many questions would be entire deleterious to the reputations of several foolish young fellows that had been beguiled and led astray by Rathe’s machinations.

It was agreeable, on a fine spring morn, to walk through these streets, glancing at the shops and the street-sellers, and feel the weight of that masquerade off her shoulders. For besides the fear of being unmasked, she had quite apprehended that Rathe was an exceedingly dangerous fellow that was playing for exceptional high stakes. She had seen Sandy MacDonald and Clorinda twisting their mouths over the things they had found in his cyphered records –

A desire, MacDonald had remarked with what Clorinda termed his dour Calvinist scowl, for corruption besides profit.

Leda, remembering Rathe’s desire that Leo should endeavour to find compromising letters of Clorinda’s in return for the forgetting of his poker debts, quite saw what he meant.

She threw pennies to the beggar on the corner, before entering the building in which Matt had his agency, up the stairs to the first floor, a discreet sign at the door. She went in, peeped into the waiting-room, where she did not see any agitated persons a-wringing their hands – well, was still early in the day – and went into the file-room, that served as somewhat of a common-room as well.

Solly Abrahams was sitting leaning back somewhat precarious in his chair, discoursing of his recent case in Sheffield – I am like to think Rugden has been putting out a good word for us among his acquaintance there! –

Ginevra Frinton gave a little snort and remarked that while it gave the agency great consequence to be involved in a famous murder case that turned out no murder – la, she said to the sceptical noises around the table, was it not concluded her wretch of a husband poisoned himself with his chemical experiments? – when there was that matter of Mr Rugden’s sister, there is a deal more regular business to be got from embezzling clerks &C.

Quite, said Leda, hanging her hat on the peg, I doubt they have a murder even once in the twelve-month, or not one that would require our talents –

Entirely so. But Matt said, would wish you to go see him once you were here –

Leda nodded, put her hands to her hair to assure herself it was tidy, and smoothed down her clothes, and went along to Matt’s office.

Matt was in entire good humour – indeed one could not doubt that, taken all round, the Rathe business had come to as satisfactory a conclusion as it might, even if was not entirely in accordance with the law. Remarked that already had useful intelligence upon some several items and was optimistic as to the prospect of restoring 'em. Also heard that Schmidt was no longer in play?

Leda nodded. Story is he took his razor to his throat in despair. While she fancied that was not the full story, was the story that would serve.

Tidy! grunted Matt, especial as you managed to come by his papers and remit them to Mr MacDonald for perusal.

That he is still fathoming out, they being mostly writ in a very crabbed Germanic hand.

Well, I think we may leave that in his hands for now. And now to new business –

Leda sat forward in her chair

– Dumaine has been positive nagging me as to when he might anticipate Babsie Bolton a-strolling through his gaming-rooms with an eye out for any cogging going on.

Leda grinned and said, had indeed been minded to call upon Mr Dumaine to see was he in any requirement of Babsie’s services.

Do you so! Though he is complaining that his business falls off somewhat – I am like to think that several of the young fools that were entrapped by Rathe go become converts to a more sober way of life –

Leda began to giggle and said, La, going about to prayer-meetings and doing good works &C?

Mayhap not that far! But taking to rather more genteel pleasures, accompanying their mothers and sisters about the Season – making civil at tea-parties and standing up at balls &C.

Mayhap, said Leda primly, they will even be about finding the love of a good woman, that novels tell us is a great remedy for the follies of youth.

Matt guffawed, and said, be away with her to convoke with Dumaine! – and did she have opportunity, would do no harm to fathom how matters were getting on in Seven Dials.

Leda grinned and said, Larry had a purpose to take a jaunt there this very evening as ever was.

So after she had had a gossipy nuncheon with her colleagues and heard how well Ginevra’s boy was doing at school, and that Tess’s husband was still entire secure in the penitentiary, Leda set off to St James.

Not the bustling time o’day at Dumaine’s – Leda was these days a familiar figure even in her drab working-day plumage and was civilly nodded upstairs to Dumaine’s office.

He rose and shook her very friendly by the hand – sure they had missed her these past months, but he apprehended that her talents were much in demand! – Leda smiled demurely – and waved her into a chair, so that they might convoke over the question of Babsie Bolton’s eye upon the gaming tables.

Coming to a mutually convenable agreement over this, Dumaine sent for coffee, and enquired whether Miss Hacker had acquired any new tricks of legerdemain?

Leda asked whether he had a coin or so about him? For indeed she had been practising further feats of prestidigitation besides the card tricks she had learnt of Tommie Thorne. And was able to demonstrate some mysteries that one could see quite beguiled Dumaine.

They parted on excellent terms.

Seeing that 'twas a fine afternoon, Leda proceeded to walk to Covent Garden, where she dropped in at Dolly Mutton’s coffee-shop, that at this hour had mostly respectable customers. Molly Binns nodded at Leda, that enquired whether there was aught ado that should be reported to Lady Bexbury?

Molly shook her head and said, matters ran very regular at present. And was there anything that she could put up for Miss Hacker?

Leda said that did she have the makings, a ham sandwich would come very grateful. Molly nodded and went into the back parts while Leda looked around. Indeed, all looked very quiet and respectable – but had never been a riotous establishment. A notice on the wall conveyed the intelligence of Dorcas’ next prayer-meeting and Bible-reading. There were several collecting-boxes for good causes upon the counter.

Leda grinned inwardly. Had been a time when would have been entirely daunted at the prospect of entering Dolly Mutton’s coffee-shop, resort of Covent Garden Misses that would look very askance at a Seven Dials streetwalker! But here she was, sat entire genteel a-reading of a copy of The Lady’s What-Not that was left about for the perusal of any drinking coffee.