Dilly Court - The River Maid

He came to a halt, raising his head but in the darkness his face was a pale blur. ‘You were told to ignore my presence.’ His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, and she could not tell if he was young or old, but it was obvious from the way he spoke that this was no ordinary criminal.

‘You are in my home,’ Essie said boldly, although her knees were trembling and she was poised ready to retreat into her room and slam the door in his face. ‘I have the right to know your name at least, and what sort of business you have that can only be done by night.’

‘You ask a lot of questions.’ There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

‘Your name, sir. I refuse to share my house with someone who is afraid to make himself known to me.’

‘And what do you propose to do about it, Miss Chapman? Your father has agreed to this.’

‘But I have not.’ Essie folded her arms, staring down at him. ‘You might be a murderer, for all I know.’

He mounted the last of the steps so that they were standing close together on the small landing. ‘Then perhaps you should be afraid. Your father is sound asleep – drugged with laudanum and ale, I should imagine from the smell downstairs. We are alone and I have you at my mercy. What do you intend to do about it?’

The blood was drumming in her ears in a deafening tattoo, but she was not going to let him see that she was afraid. ‘You don’t frighten me, sir. My father has made an agreement with you, which I must honour for now, but if I discover that you are engaged in criminal activities I will have no hesitation in reporting you to the police.’

‘Which is my room?’ he asked, stifling a yawn. ‘I’m tired and I need to sleep.’

‘You haven’t answered any of my questions.’

‘And I don’t intend to. There are things that you don’t need to know.’ He stepped past her and opened the door to Jacob’s room. ‘The bed has not been slept in so I assume this must be mine.’

As he pushed past her Essie had felt the warmth and a scent that was unforgettable. ‘I recognise you now. I brought you ashore from the foreign ship yesterday evening.’

He glanced over his shoulder as he was about to enter Jacob’s room. ‘Very clever of you, but I’d advise you to put it from your mind.’

‘Who are you? You might do me the courtesy of telling me your name.’

‘You may call me Raven,’ he murmured, and shut the door.

‘Raven?’ she repeated dazedly. ‘What sort of name is Raven?’

‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ Jacob said crossly. ‘It’s better that you know nothing about our friend.’

‘He’s not my friend,’ Essie countered. ‘I don’t like it, Pa.’

‘Just get on with your work, girl. I want you to go to the wharfinger’s office and see if he’s got any jobs that you can do. I don’t know how long our guest will be staying or how long I’m going to be laid up. Don’t think I’m enjoying this, because I’m not.’

Essie relented. Her father’s face was lined with suffering and he looked pale and ill. ‘All right, Pa. I’ll go out and get some fresh bread for breakfast and some coffee from the stall in Nightingale Lane.’

‘I haven’t got money to burn,’ Jacobs muttered. ‘You ought to make up the fire and put the kettle on.’

Essie took a deep breath, praying for patience. ‘I would, Pa. But we’ve run out of coal and kindling.’

‘Oh, well, do what you must, girl.’ Jacob lay back and closed his eyes. ‘I can’t sleep properly on this thing. I miss my bed.’

Essie snatched up her shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders, biting back the sharp words that threatened to tumble from her lips. ‘I’ll be back soon, Pa.’

She let herself out of the house and hurried down the street, nodding to Gaffer Wiggins, the chimney sweep, who was mustering his gang of small apprentices ready for the day’s work. Essie smiled at the boys, all of them tiny, undernourished and very young, but they did not respond. She saw them nearly every day and, had it been in her power, she would have taken them home, given them a bath in the tin tub in front of the fire and fed them nourishing food. But they belonged to their master and the many attempts by those in power to improve their lot had been largely ignored.

Essie sighed and walked on, heading for the wharfinger’s office. Maybe one day she would find herself in a position to help the poor and downtrodden, but now the need to find work was uppermost in her mind. And she did not trust the man who called himself Raven.

Essie heaved the boat across the stony foreshore and secured it to an iron ring above the high-water mark. She had just returned from taking a junior dock official to Limehouse Hole Pier, a job too small to be considered worthwhile by the watermen, but there had been a degree of urgency from Saul Hoskins, who was afraid he might face the sack if he was late for work yet again. Saul lived in Thomas’s Rents and Essie knew his young wife, Marie, who was the mother of twin girls and had recently given birth to a boy. If Saul lost his job the family would face an uncertain future and Essie had been only too glad to help, even if Saul could only afford to reward her with a penny for her efforts. Rowing fiercely against the tide was exhausting work, but she had got him to work on time.

It was a week since Raven, their mysterious lodger, had moved into Jacob’s room. Very little had changed in number seven White’s Rents, but Essie had to admit that Raven’s contribution to the housekeeping had made their lives easier. They had paid off the arrears on the rent and had eaten well every day, although Essie had kept some of the money aside, hiding it beneath a loose floorboard in her bedroom. Their lodger would move on soon, or so she hoped, but Jacob was not yet fit to return to the river and she would have to earn enough money to keep them both until he was strong enough to work. She was still curious and not a little worried about Raven’s activities, but he kept himself to himself and neither she nor her father had seen him to speak to since that first night.

Essie hitched up her damp skirts, wishing that she could wear breeches like the men, but it was difficult enough for a girl to find gainful employment, without shocking the male population and antagonising them. She had many acquaintances on the wharves and amongst the lightermen and watermen, but she knew that they tolerated her for her father’s sake, although he came in for a certain amount of criticism for allowing his daughter to take his place. She did not want to be an object of pity, but she was realistic enough to know her limitations when it came to physical strength. She had always thought of the turbulent River Thames as an entity in its own right, with a throbbing heart that would go on for ever: the river was to be respected, feared and never taken for granted. She climbed Duke Shore Stairs and had just reached the wharf when she spotted Ben, who was chatting to one of the crane operators. He broke off his conversation and hurried to meet her, dodging between piles of crates and coils of rope.

‘You’re looking very serious. Is anything wrong, Essie?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I’m fine, thanks.’

‘I’m sorry I haven’t managed to come round to see your pa, but we’ve been working day and night for the last week.’

‘That’s all right. Pa doesn’t feel up to having visitors.’

‘How is he doing? It’s going about that he might not walk again.’

‘Whoever is spreading such lies should mind their own business,’ Essie said sharply. ‘Pa’s improving every day. He’s moving about the house, although he can’t make the stairs yet, but he’ll be back to work soon.’