Angelica colours, charming in any woman let alone one of such beguiling embonpoint, and lowers her voice to a plaintive whisper. ‘Eliza will not be pleased.’
‘That woman is not your keeper,’ hisses Bel. ‘Buy a pineapple.’
‘She says such things make trouble.’
‘Well, that is what pays her way; if you did not need an attendant she would be sewing sheets in a garret.’
‘Oh, but she is a tyrant with the purse-strings. She says in our –’ and now she only mouths the words – ‘current situation we must forgo luxuries.’
‘Then she’s a fool. Even if you have nothing else, you must have luxuries. What, would she have the world see you eking out pease porridge for your meals?’ She sighs. ‘Well, so be it. There is one way left to get it.’
Angelica’s lips twitch up at the corners. ‘Really! You think it will work after so long?’
‘Of course.’
Angelica looks about herself to gauge the attention of the room. And yes, the eyes of the customers flick discreetly over her; not only the women peeping over their almond biscuits, but the men too, and some of them, she sees, are of the first water. She draws a deep breath. ‘Pineapples,’ she says with a penetrating coquettery, ‘are my favourite.’ Bel’s eyes are shining, and she continues with renewed enthusiasm, ‘To my mind they are the finest of all fruit. I wish I had one, that I might enjoy it at my leisure.’
‘Come away, Mrs Neal,’ cries Bel with a shudder. ‘I cannot stand the sight of the horrid things. I will not have one in my carriage.’
‘Would you deprive me of my pleasure?’
‘Aye! Madam, I would. You will go without today.’ They turn away, and Mrs Fortescue raises an eyebrow. ‘Well played,’ she whispers.
‘You think it will work?’
‘Wait and see.’
FIVE
Mr Hancock has been in and out of the coffee-houses around the Exchange for thirty years; it does not take him long to light upon one in which to show his mermaid. It was once a favourite of his father’s, and to those with long memories and moderate imagination has a reputation as the place to overhear great discourse on biology. The level of debate therein is not now what it once was, it serving mainly middle-aged merchants who flatter themselves on their scientific bent, and what man of some means is not now-a-days a man of science? It is known as the Pineapple, ‘so called,’ says its proprietor Mr Murray, ‘for this was the first place in all of London where such a fruit could be tasted of. And since then we have displayed all sorts of wonders to the satisfaction of all. Miss Jermy, patched black and white like a cow, she was one of ours. And the little lad with feet for hands and hands for feet, the Lord rest him; and the African mask with the terrible curse on’t; and that little white fox. Destroyed the wainscoting,’ he adds regretfully. ‘I shall be wanting a deposit from ye, in case of damage.’
‘I cannot imagine it will cause you any trouble of that sort.’
‘Humph. I have heard that before. What of its diet? And how large is its tank?’
‘Why, it is not alive,’ says Mr Hancock. He has swaddled it in an Indian shawl as once belonged to his mother, and in the office of the coffee-house he unwraps it with some ceremony. He expects surprise from Mr Murray, but he betrays none as he inspects it. He looks at it as if it were no less ordinary than a bushel of apples, although he has the courtesy to wipe his hands upon his breeches before picking it up.
‘I see,’ he says. ‘More of a sea-goblin, ain’t it? That’s what I’d call it.’
‘Its appearance is unlovely. Do you think it will draw any crowd?’
‘Why would it not? A marvel’s a marvel.’ He taps his nose wisely. ‘To my mind, its ugliness adds to its appeal. Folks don’t mind being scared when they know there’s a pie and gossip to be had downstairs.’
‘And so you would have it?’
‘Aye, why not? We’ll call it a mermaid, draw ’em in. And I get twenty per cent.’
SIX
Mrs Fortescue chooses a jelly, rosolio pink. At their table she traces the rim of her spoon against its surface before piercing it with slow purpose. She puts a morsel to her mouth, and meditates on it. Angelica, delving into the sweet wine under her syllabub, is silent too. She would have liked to sit further into the middle of the room, where she might be admired from more angles, but Bel’s patience for spectacle has been exhausted already.
‘I have something to tell you,’ she says. ‘Shh, now do not make anything of it. I do not want these people’s attention.’
‘Well?’
Mrs Fortescue bounces her spoon against the taut jelly. ‘I may get married.’
‘Oh!’
‘Hush! Hush! Don’t raise your voice.’
Angelica looks about her furtively and leans forward to whisper, ‘To Lord—’
‘Do not say his name here!’ Bel draws herself up; her eyes blaze warning. ‘I cannot stand to be the subject of any more gossip.’ Her voice is gentler as she continues, glancing about herself. ‘Of course to His Lordship. I have not been in the keeping of anybody else these last three years, have I? And the countess died this spring, so really there is no obstacle.’
‘I see obstacles,’ growls Angelica. ‘I see what he is and what you are.’
‘I will be whatever I choose to make myself. Have I not come this far?’
‘But, Bel!’ She puts down her spoon. ‘You!’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘You do not remember what you used to say? “Never shall I be a wife, Jellie –”’ she affects a stern little frown and wags her finger, although her voice trembles unaccountably – ‘“for that is a life of servitude, and servitude I do denounce.”’
Bel gives a little sigh, and taps her bottom lip with the bowl of her spoon. ‘I denounced it, but it did not denounce me. I have all my life sought freedom for myself, but now I think – the world being what it is – that freedom cannot be got. More expedient, do you not think, to choose its best imitator?’
‘But you are already well set,’ says Angelica. ‘A fine house all of your own, and a carriage to drive where you will. He has even let you keep your friends.’
‘Aye, indeed, and I read as I wish, and he is not afraid for me to meet men if I find them interesting or useful to my learning.’
‘So how can it be better? What would you wish changed?’
Bel knits her chocolate-brown eyebrows. ‘’Tis not secure.’
‘Money is its own security.’
‘And how am I to come upon that when I grow old and ugly, and he casts me off? I’ve nothing in my own name. Have you any savings put aside?’
‘Not a penny!’
‘And so what d’you suppose will happen? We cannot be novelties all our lives.’ She spreads her hands beseechingly. ‘Jellie, he asked.’
‘And you said yes.’ Angelica is stung, although she cannot say quite why. It is as if Bel has laughed off a vow that Angelica imagined they both took with equal solemnity. She looks about the confectioner’s nervously, for in her surprise she has forgotten to modulate her expressions and her movements. She would not like to be observed as uncomfortable.
‘Dear heart. Dear Jellie.’ Bel sighs. ‘I have tried all other kinds of prostitution, why not this? ’Tis simply the best contract I ever saw drawn up, and its terms are for life.’
‘His life or yours?’ Angelica scowls into the curds of her syllabub.
‘That’s not for me to guess.’
‘’Twill be yours if he gets a baby on you,’ says Angelica. ‘Those little hips weren’t built to bear much.’
‘Well, so be it. It cannot be said I passed my life idle, nor unexamined.’
‘Can we leave this place? I want some air.’
‘Of course, of course. A turn around the square?’ Bel’s voice is kind and coaxing. ‘A peek in the jewellers’ windows, what say you?’
‘Oh, very well.’