Once the houses in some of these streets had been quite prosperous, lived in by merchants and city men, rather like George Lincoln. But by whatever curious alchemy governs such things, the houses and the streets had ceased to be prosperous and well cared for. They had slid grubbily down into extreme poverty, and the once imposing houses had been divided and sub-divided. Basements that had been intended for sculleries and servants’ quarters had turned into old clothes’ shops and shoe-menders and wig-makers. Despite the poverty, alehouses and gin shops of all kinds were everywhere. Maud thought it must be the most appalling place in the world.
Paradise Yard was an enclosed area just off one of the streets, and Number 17 was in one corner. Maud hesitated, looking up at it. It was as mean and as neglected as all the others, although tattered curtains hung at one or two windows as if someone had tried to make it slightly comfortable.
Stepping around the piles of squalid rubbish that strewed the cobblestones, Maud went towards the door of Number 17. She was nervous, but not actually frightened, and although she had no idea if this part of her plan was going to work, she knew what she was going to say.
She had thought she would knock on the door, which was what people in her world did, but this door was already open. Beyond it was a dank hallway, with doors opening off it. Were the rooms behind them all occupied by different people? If so, how would she find Catherine Kendal? Would she recognize her?
But Maud thought she would recognize her; firmly in her mind was that odd little conversation with Thomasina.
‘A girl who lives in a poor part of London,’ Thomasina had said. ‘She’s exactly your age, Maud.’ She had added, ‘There’s a sick sister–I think she’d do anything in the world for that sister.’
A girl who was exactly Maud’s age. A girl who had accepted Thomasina’s charity. And there was a sister who was sick, and for whom Catherine Kendal was prepared to do all kinds of things…
She had no idea which door to try first, but as she was trying to decide, there were sounds from overhead, a door slammed and quick light footsteps came along the landing and down the wide, once-beautiful staircase. The girl stopped halfway down and stared at Maud from suspicious, wide-apart eyes.
‘Catherine Kendal?’ Maud knew it was. (‘She resembles you a bit,’ Thomasina had said, that day. ‘If it wasn’t for the chance of birth, you might be in her shoes and she might be in yours.’)
And although this girl was not exactly a mirror image of Maud, she was very similar. She resembles you…She might be in your shoes…And if only the sister looked the same…
Maud scarcely waited for the girl’s nod of wary assent to her question. She said, in a firm voice, that she came from Miss Forrester, and that Miss Forrester wanted to offer medical help for Miss Kendal’s sister. No, she herself did not know the exact details, said Maud. Her tone suggested she was an employee of Thomasina’s: perhaps a companion or amanuensis, and that the medical details were not her concern. The thing was, the girl would have to come up to Amberwood. Well, yes, right away. She believed it was a matter of a specialist being in the area for a few days, and it was thought he might be able to help. Naturally Miss Forrester would pay for all the travelling and so on.
The girl listened to all this, not speaking. She put her head on one side, as if considering Maud in a way Maud did not much like. When Maud finished speaking, she said, ‘How do I know it ain’t a con?’ It was the accent of this dreadful world: this place of street urchins and poverty and evil smells.
Maud said, ‘A con…? Oh, I see. It’s perfectly genuine, I assure you. Your sister will be at Quire House with Miss Forrester.’
‘Not me as well?’
Maud had been ready for this. She said, ‘Miss Forrester only seemed prepared to pay for one. Of course, if you wanted to buy your own train ticket, you could come. Or you could follow in a few days’ time.’
‘Have to think about that,’ said Catherine Kendal. ‘Leaving London an’ all. I got my ladies to consider.’