Nine Shillings

Fool's Gold

London - 1842

'I don't see what good talking to you'll do.' Our Becky was leaning against the frame of her door to bar entry.

'I'm a detective,' I said, trying to channel the same patience I mustered for the children and Bran. And Josef, if I was honest.

'Oh, really, Lady La-di-da.'

'I'm not a police detective,' I replied. Being a vigilante was much easier than detecting, I should've left the talking to Bran and Josef, people liked them.

'You wouldn't have got this far if I thought you were,' she said.

'Missus is good for it,' Little John said. 'She pays in guineas.'

I eyed him, but it was too late.

'Oh, guineas, does she?' She folded her arms. 'Disappear, does it?'

Little John frowned, obviously not up on his leprechaun stories. People were coming out of their homes along the narrow street to see what was going on, subtlety had gone out the window.

'I don't know what he's been telling you but I don't know nothing about murderers. Rabid rent collectors and prowlers, ten a penny, but murderers? Don't be ridiculous.'

I blinked. There were murderers all about when I was living in The Seven Dials, I should know, I was one. Part of me wanted to ask about prowlers and rent collectors but I supposed I should stick to what wasn't easy to find out myself.

'I just want to know about the hooded figure,' I said.

'Getting accosted by a woman in a hood is hardly the strangest thing to happen round here,' she said. 'Who cares 'bout someone going round bopping off toffs anyways? They don't care 'bout what happens to us now, do they? Throwing us out of work when it suits, putting up rents like circus tents. What are they going to do if they kill us all off, answer me that? Who's going to operate the machinery for no money then? Lord and Lady La-di-da going to get their hands dirty, are they?'

I blinked. Our Becky was like someone had extracted a less aggressive version of the voice in my head and made it flesh.

'We need The Reaper round here. He don't give nine shillings,' Little John said, his expression suggested he hadn't been paying attention.

I wasn't sure you could give nine shillings, nonchalance was more a state of being.

'Got nice little gathering going on here,' a man said behind us.

Two men, one with a garish taste in cravats and a second with a signet ring, had come down the alley and the onlookers retreated into their houses.

Signet inclined his head to me. 'Nice to find a fine lady indulging in charity... My Lady.' He cleared his throat. 'But me and Mrs Arthurs have some business, if you'll scuse us.'

Cravat got out a little book, opened it, and whistled. 'More'n some business, Gilbert.'

'You listen to me, you two toe-rags, no-one's telling me I've got to let my little ones starve so's your boss can have best butter and meat on his table.'

'You tell him, Becky,' Little John said.

Gilbert raised his hand. Little John ducked behind me, clever boy. I stared at Gilbert, doing a passable impression of Bran's disapproving expression, and he lowered his hand.

'You can bloody well clear off, you'll get your money. Maybe if the bastard paid people proper –'

Gilbert stepped forward. 'I'd be careful what you say or you might find yourself off to the workhouse.' He lowered his voice, 'If they'll have you and your brats.'

'Do you want to be threatening people with witnesses about?' I asked.

'It's not a threat, it's a fact,' said Cravat, frowning at me as if he was trying to put a name to a face. 'Nothing illegal happening here.'

'It bloody should be,' Becky said.

John peeked out from behind my head. 'Better watch out or The Reaper'll get you.'

Gilbert leaned forward to look him in the eye. 'The Reaper don't exist, little boy.'

'You won't be saying that when he kills you,' John said.

'Normally I'd say that was excessive but I'll make exceptions,' Becky muttered.

'Muttering and cursing like a witch won't settle your debt,' Gilbert said and straightened. 'I'm sure we can take it in kind.'

I could've offered to pay the debt for them but it wouldn't endear me to Becky; people didn't want some rich person coming along to save them, they wanted to be given the means to save themselves. Or, better yet, to be given means enough to not need saving.

Cravat tucked his notebook away, still watching me.

'We've all got to pay our dues.' Gilbert moved towards Becky.

She shifted to block the door completely. 'You're not coming in here.'

Small children started crying inside the house.

'If your boss hadn't laid everyone off you'd have the money. You've no right.' She stared him down with a ferocity that might've made me think twice.

Gilbert ignored her.

I stepped between them. He bumped into me and rocked back.

'If you step aside and let us do our jobs.' Gilbert pushed lightly at me.

I encroached into his personal space; gaze fixed on his. He turned a swipe of his arm into running his fingers through his hair, his expression could've curdled milk in a cow's udder.

Cravat put his hand on Gilbert's arm and whispered in his ear, 'I recognise her. It's Lot Maguire.'

Gilbert's eyes widened and he looked me up and down, I'd thought I was unrecognisable in a fine dress rather than my old patched jacket and trousers.

He turned to Cravat and whispered, 'It can't be.'

'I saw her with Aubrey,' Cravat replied. 'She almost dropped him down the stairs in a tenement. Didn't bat an eye.' He couldn't have been more than a boy when he saw that, it was too far back for me to place him without digging in the depths of my memory.

Gilbert frowned. 'I thought she was dead.'

'Nah, she went off to suck some gull's cock. Made a fortune by all accounts.'

Gilbert tilted his head. 'That's a talent.'

'Aye, a talent to give a man head, or to take it away.' He tapped his throat.

'Tactical retreat?' Gilbert asked.

'Tactical retreat,' Cravat agreed.

They swung round and walked a little too fast away from me.

'That was right good, Missus.' Little John said. 'Who's Lot Maguire?'

'Someone scarier than them.' I turned back to Becky.

She slammed the door in my face.

Little John shrugged. 'Don't worry 'bout our Becky. She didn't shout at you, means she likes you.'

I frowned at the door. I very much doubted it.