Across the Street
Miss Emily
Inchpenny sighed in exasperation as her stocking snagged on the rough wood of
the cheap, deal stool on which she perched.
Already they were more darn than stocking, but Uncle Theophilus would
make such a fuss if she asked for some money for some more.
She sighed,
and bent to her work again, writing steadily in a neat, round hand. And then, covertly, she peeked out of the
window, to see if she could see Him in the building across the street.
The building
across the street belonged to Loveday Shipping, and it was plainly a prosperous
building. Why, only recently Mr. Loveday
had installed the new gas lighting! And
even before that, they had burned enough candles to light the ball of a
debutante of one of the upper ten thousand!
Not, mused Emily, that she had any real idea what that might be like,
but it sounded good, and the office had always blazed with light, not like the
thin, inadequate light cast by the evil-smelling tallow dips here.
He was there.
He was a
handsome young man, seeming well built, and dressed most dashingly, with coats
so tight that he must have a valet to help him on and off with them. One could see him so easily in the bright
light across the way. He surely could
not be a mere shipping clerk!
However, even
the shipping clerks from Loveday Shipping dressed better than anyone she had
ever seen here, where her uncle’s chief clerk resided in a shabby frock coat of
times gone by, with the resigned inevitability of a plant grown so long in a
pot that it has taken on the shape of the pot.
Emily missed
plants. She was able to go to the park
on Sundays, but the little breath of green was enough to almost make it worse. She blinked hard on an unbidden tear and
returned to her writing.
“Papa, have
you any idea who that beautiful young lady is?
The one who sits writing in the window, with the most extraordinary
clothes?” asked Lawrence Loveday. He had
finished the accounting for the day and had taken his figures to his father to
be looked over.
“What, the
girl in Pinchpenny and Eke, you mean?
Inchpenny and Peake, I should say,” said his father.
Lawrence laughed.
“A good name
for them,” said he. “Yes, she. Or do I mean her?”
“I don’t know
why I sent you to a good school if you don’t know one from t’other; and it’s no
good asking me, all my education came from being a chandler’s boy until I was
able to lay information about a plot to engage in barratry I overheard.”
“I know, Papa,
up to no good, and creeping about the inn with intent to startle your master
and his inamorata with fireworks. You
were a hell-born babe.”
“Yes, wasn’t
I? but Lloyds were generous with their reward, and it saved the lives of the
poor devils of sailors who would have been murdered when the cheating captain
scuttled the ship after passing off the cargo to another, to gain both cargo
and insurance money. And I think you
mean she.”
“More than
likely,” said Lawrence. “Which being so, do you know who she is, or
not, Papa?”
“She is the
niece of old Inchpenny,” said Mr. Loveday.
“As I understand it, her father was a parson, the elder son going in for
law, and the younger for the church, and having been orphaned she lives with
her uncle who has turned off his junior clerk to save money, since she writes a
fair enough hand to work for him for nothing.”
“Nothing?” Lawrence
was shocked.
“Not a penny.
And you wonder why she wears odd clothes.
I suspect she has had to resort to raiding the attic for any garment not
in rags, regardless of its age. Either that or her parents were so unworldly
that they failed to notice that the nineteenth century had dawned and passed
its first decade,” he added dryly.
“And I thought
myself hard done by on the wage you make me live on!” said his son.
Mr. Loveday
frowned.
“You manage to
dress up well enough like a dandy,” he said.
“Give you my
word, sir, if you saw a dandy, you’d eat your words,” said Lawrence.
“I purchase my own fabrics at the wharf and have a man make them up for
me. It costs a fraction of what a coat
like this would set me back if I bought it from a fashionable tailor who bought
his own fabric.”
Mr. Loveday
managed a half-approving grunt.
“Literally
cutting your coat to suit your pocket,” he said. “You look well enough. And you’ll not regret learning economies when
I make you my partner on your birthday.”
“Uncle, it is
unseemly that I should be seen in public with holes in my stockings and a gown
almost in rags, almost showing that my underwear is indecent,” said Emily.
“Ingratitude! Base ingratitude! Have I not given you a home out of the
goodness of my heart?” demanded Theophilus Inchpenny.
“No, you gave
me a home because I threatened to write to the newspapers to draw the attention
of your clients to my plight had you turned me out of doors penniless,” said
Emily.
“Yes, and it
is nothing short of blackmail!” cried Inchpenny.
“Which, having
attempted it once successfully emboldens me to consider the same ploy,” said
Emily. “In that I shall take myself to the park and beg on Sundays, explaining
that I am not paid a wage for the hard work that I do, and thus must beg for my
clothing. The rags I am wearing, which
also need washing as I have nothing to change into, will bear me out on that.”
“Good
G-d! how did you come by such a brazen
idea?” Inchpenny was horrified.
“By having a
child press a penny into my hand as I walked home yesterday, and saying
‘please, beggar-lady, buy something to eat,” said Emily. “Bless the child, I could not refuse such a
generous spirit.”
“And you did
not give the penny to me? You thieving
wench!” cried Inchpenny.
“It was given
to me, sir, not to you. And I did buy
myself something to eat, since I knew that by the time I had delivered all the
letters you had sent me to deliver I should be late for dinner, and you would
tell me, as you indeed did, that I must go hungry for being slow,” said Emily,
with asperity. “And how my poor father
must turn over in his grave to have his daughter trudging the street looking
like a beggar.”
“It prevents
you from the unwelcome attentions of any who might take you for something
else,” said Inchpenny, then beamed in satisfaction. “It is for your own protection.”
“That is the
most specious argument I have ever heard,” said Emily. “And if I had a couple of decent, modest
gowns, then I should not be mistaken for such an unfortunate woman in any
case. You have my ultimatum; fifteen
shillings for a couple of new gowns and Saturday afternoon off to purchase
them, or I shall spend Sunday telling the people of Hyde
Park how I am treated. I
have a good voice. Perhaps I shall write
a song about it, and sing it to a popular tune.”
Theophilus
Inchpenny went purple.
“I will lock
you in your room!” he declared.
“Then I shall
leave the office on Monday and do it then,” said Emily. “You will not keep me incarcerated forever;
you need me to do all the junior clerk’s work since you turned off poor Mr.
Jukes.”
“Infamous! You will beggar me!” cried Inchpenny.
“Unlikely. I’ve seen your accounts, and you could afford
to show off your only female relative in gowns that cost pounds, not
shillings,” said Emily, bitterly.
Muttering,
Inchpenny dug into his pockets.
“Fifteen
shillings. Not a penny more,” he
declared.
“Even a
tweenfloors maid has her clothing provided and five pounds a year,” said
Emily. “And had you paid me half what
you paid Jukes, I should have been able to be a pretty advertisement to the
firm. But I thank you, though you have
had more work out of me than one hundred times that amount.”
“Just get out
of my sight, and get on with your copying!” shouted Mr. Inchpenny.
Emily got out
of his sight adroitly, breathing very hard and trying not to be sick. It was one thing to know that she needed to
stand up to the miser, and quite another thing to do it. She whispered a prayer of thanks for the
strength given to her to do it.
And if she had
a decent gown or two, depending on what she might find second hand, she might
then covertly write for positions as a governess.
She
sighed. It would take her away from Him,
if she managed to gain such a position, but then, He was only a dream; did not
even know that she existed.
Lawrence watched Her slip
out of her seat, and sighed. Poor
girl! There had to be something one
could do; her every movement showed that she was ladylike in all particulars,
and yet so miserable.
“Papa, can’t
we employ her as a clerk?” he asked.
His father
raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“And where
would the poor girl live?” he asked. “We
have a bachelor house, since your dear mother died. And would she not think it odd to be offered
a job that is never done by women?”
Lawrence sighed. “I see her so bowed down and … and crushed,”
he said. “Pinchpenny will work her to
death, and before that he will make her old before her time.”
“There is
nothing you can do that a respectable girl would countenance for one minute,”
said Mr. Loveday.
Lawrence, who
was only half listening to him, gasped as he saw Emily return.
“Why,
Papa! She has almost a spring to her
step! Do you think she has told him that
he might go to Hades?”
“I doubt it,”
said Mr. Loveday, dryly. “But as I shall
not get any sense out of you otherwise, you may leave work early and loiter to
see if you might fall into conversation with her.”
Lawrence’s face fell.
“I doubt she
even knows I exist and will think me some lewd fellow to thus approach her,” he
said.
“You will not
know if you do not ask,” said Mr. Loveday, who had noticed Miss Inchpenny’s
glances no less languishing than his son’s.
It was a respectable match, and moreover if it survived the imaginations
of two young people separated by a street that might as well have been an
ocean, then it would cock a snoot at old Inchpenny.
Mr. Loveday
had no hesitation in cocking a snoot at Theophilus Inchpenny whom he had
loathed since his days as a chandler’s clerk, when the junior partner of
Inchpenny and Peake, when Peake was still alive, had treated him with scorn.
“Miss
Inchpenny! May I have the pleasure of
escorting you?” Lawrence lifted his high-crowned beaver to
her. That was the single most expensive item of his apparel; it was no good
skimping and getting a cheap beaver made of rabbit fur. They fell out of shape in the rain.
“You have the
advantage of me, sir,” said Emily, blushing violently. Why never in her wildest
dreams had she thought He might speak to her.
“Lawrence Loveday,
at your service,” said Laurence, with a bow.
“We ought to be introduced by a third party, of course, but I can’t see
your uncle doing that.”
“Not without
charging for it, anyway,” said Emily. “Oh dear, that was not proper of me.”
“Oh, I’ve
heard stories about your uncle from my father,” said Lawrence, cheerfully. “He’s a man who’d skin a flea for its hide
and tallow.”
Emily
giggled. She was already quite drunk
with her success, and the laugh escaped.
“What a pretty
giggle you have, not like some of the silly titters some girls give,” said Lawrence. “Miss Inchpenny! You will think me dreadfully rude, but there
is something personal I wish to ask you!”
“Why I am such
a dowd?” said Emily, wearily.
“Lud, no, the
man couldn’t stretch the hide of a flea round you to give you a decent pelisse,
and only one would bite him for he hid his blood in a vault,” said Lawrence.
Emily laughed
right out at that.
“Mr.
Loveday, I wish I could say that was a
calumny on my uncle!” she said.
“But you
can’t. So I know why you’re dressed like
a … forgot what I was going to say.”
“Beggar? I know.
A little boy gave me a penny yesterday, and it gave me an idea.”
“I say, Miss
Inchpenny, I know some beggars make good money, but it ain’t a job for a nicely
brought up young lady,” said Lawrence. “All I was going to ask you was how it was
you suddenly came back to your stool looking buoyant earlier.”
“You … you
noticed me?” Emily’s eyes widened.
“I’ve been
watching you for weeks and trying to pick up courage to talk to you,” said Lawrence. “And I thought I might scare you. But today you have an air of … of steel,” he
said.
“Well, it does
not redound to my credit,” said Emily, “but I must have more than one gown and
preferably one or two that are not threadbare.”
“And other
essentials too, I wager,” said Lawrence. “I don’t know the details, never having had
any sisters, but, well, men have more than top things.”
“And so do
women,” said Emily, blushing again. “I
would not, I think, really beg, but I threatened my uncle that I would, and
tell everyone why I was. So I have a
whole fifteen shillings!”
“Mean old
skinflint!” said Lawrence. “That won’t go far.”
“I was
planning to purchase second hand garments,” said Emily. “I’m not a ship owner’s offspring.”
“Oh, I’m on a
salary until my birthday next month, when I’ll be a partner,” said Lawrence. “I have second hand garments too, but only
the ones you can’t see. I know a tailor
and I buy fabric off the wharf.”
“How very
enterprising you are,” said Emily, admiringly.
“I had thought that a man so handsome could not possibly be clever as
well! Oh dear, I am not accustomed to conversation with strangers, I did not
mean to be rude,” and she covered her mouth with her hand.
“Oh, I don’t
take offence at being told I’m clever and handsome,” said Lawrence, “Especially by a beautiful woman!”
“Oh, I pray
you, do not mock me,” said Emily.
“I’m not. The costume may not do anything for you, but
your lovely titian hair and wonderful profile have brightened my days. And I almost feel I know you, watching your
conscientious work, your studied patience, your frustration and anger in your
shoulders. But you will think me a
terrible Paul Pry to have watched you; and I hope you will forgive it.”
Emily blushed.
“Oh, Mr.
Loveday, I have watched you, too, and seen how you work diligently, and how you
have bent over another man’s work and shown him how to do something, and so
patiently!” she said.
“Well
then! We did not need an introduction
for we already know each other!” said Lawrence. “Oh Miss Inchpenny! I hope it would not offend you, but would you
like to leave your uncle’s employ?”
“It can
scarcely be called employ, since he doesn’t pay me. I hoped to find some other situation,” said
Emily.
“Well, Papa
said we could not offer you a home, so it would not be right to ask if you
would be the new clerk we need, since Mama died some years ago, but I have a
plan! I have my shirts made by a girl
who takes in sewing, and her sister has just got married, and she wanted to
share her apartment with another girl; would that suit you?”
“Mr. Loveday,
you are going very fast,” said Emily.
“You overwhelm me!”
“Well, you
don’t have to decide right away,” said Lawrence.
Emily came to
a stop.
“Yes I do,”
she said. “And if you’ll take me to her
right now, and she likes me, I will stay with her, if the offer of a job is
genuine. I am as good a clerk as any
man, and I would like a job for pay. And
I may as well do the same job and get something for it, so long as it will
cover my rent and my food.”
“Oh a junior
clerk starts at forty pounds a year,” said Lawrence.
“Oh my,” said
Emily, for whom that was untold riches.
“Share with a
gentry-mort? She’ll look down on me,”
said Betty Hardcastle.
“I assure you,
Miss Hardcastle, I’ll do nothing of the sort,” said Emily. “I’m sure we can come to an amicable
arrangement about living together. And
if you don’t like me, perhaps I can stay until I find somewhere else.”
“Well that
won’t take long,” said Betty, casting a look at Lawrence.
“Well, dearie, if you don’t mind that I’m as common as muck, we’ll deal
extremely well together. I ain’t a
trollop, so there won’t be no unwelcome callers, and there’s a poker by the
door to discourage any that think otherwise.”
“I like the
way you think,” said Emily.
Theophilus
Inchpenny was furious that his niece did not come home; and then worried that
something had happened to her, and that someone would manage to blame him when
anything that happened to her would be her own stupid fault.
Emily had
delivered the letters she was supposed to deliver, which was one thing at
least, or rather he received enough replies to suppose she must have done. She had probably spent that hard earned
fifteen shillings on stupid clothes and got herself used and thrown in the
river.
After the
weekend, Inchpenny glanced out of the window and was almost apoplectic to see a
well-known red head seated on a stool in Loveday Shipping’s office. He hurled out of his own office to demand an
explanation of her, and was brought up short by Lawrence himself.
“You have my
niece in there! Disporting herself in an
unladylike fashion doing a man’s job!” he howled.
“Oh, funny
that it wasn’t unladylike when you had her doing the same for you but without
pay,” said Lawrence. “She’s rather good; fluent in French and
Italian, a great boon to the firm. Papa
had no hesitation in raising her wages to seventy pounds a year, with promise
of a raise in three months.”
Inchpenny’s
eyes started out of his head.
“He’s paying
her seventy pounds a year? A girl?”
“A linguist,”
said Lawrence.
“I want to
talk to her!” howled Inchpenny. “She
need to know what’s due to her own flesh and blood.”
“Funny, I
didn’t think you understood what is due to flesh and blood,” said Lawrence. “Ah, Miss Inchpenny.”
“I saw Uncle
Theophilus, so I came out,” said Emily.
“Ah! Regretting it, I see, my girl! I don’t know where you are living, but I
wager you miss a real home!”
“I do miss a
real home,” said Emily, and went on as he smirked, “But the last one I knew was
with my parents. You have a house in
which you live, with poorly-cooked food from the cheapest of cuts, badly
served. I am able to afford a servant,
who knows how to shop and cook. As you
might have, if only you paid proper wages and did not employ the cheapest
slattern you could find.”
“Oh, I see!
You have set up house living in sin – what would your poor father say? Well let me tell you, when this fancy man of
yours tires of you, he will discard you…..Hey!”
Inchpenny
managed no more as Lawrence
took him by the shoulders, rotated him, and frogmarched him out.
“Oh Lawrence, I mean, Mr.
Loveday, you are quite splendid!” said Emily, when he returned.
“By Jupiter,
Miss Inchpenny, I’d fight any dragon for you,” said Lawrence.
Emily blushed.
“Oh, Mr.
Loveday!” she managed.
Theophilus
Inchpenny was not invited to the wedding several months later. Betty however was, and was delighted to know
that she was to be the modiste to the wife of the ‘and son’ of what was now
Loveday and Son, Shipping.
