“Indeed they seem quite fascinated by her,” he commented. “But why not? She is quite the actress.” He hesitated, then: “And I hoped for a ‘clean’ witness!”
We waited impatiently. In particular, Sir John seemed most unhappy with the interruption and the consequent delay. He tapped his foot and sighed. At one point he did speculate: “I wonder what reason that woman, Mrs. Hooker, could have had to summon the midwife.” And then, a moment later, he answered his own question: “She must have been so certain of her daughter’s virtue that she wished to demonstrate it to me.”
And that was how we passed our brief exile in the hall-whistling, tapping our feet, asking questions of ourselves. Yet, as I say, it was but a
“You, sir,” said she to Sir John, “would want to know, and so I shall tell you.”
“Please do.”
“Though her maidenhead is long gone, there is no sign of entry. . recently.”
“When you say recently, what does that mean?”
A knowing smile. “Oh, a day or two perhaps-or a night and a day.”
“Is that what you told Mrs. Hooker?”
“I told her what she wished to hear. To you I tell the truth. I whispered to the girl-what is her name? Clarissa? — all the details. She’s a good girl, very smart. She can tell you all you need to know-if you need to know more.” She gave us a wink. “Goodbye, then, eh?”
She started for the stairway, but stopped, turned, and came back to us.
“You did know that she was pregnant, eh?”
“We knew nothing of the kind,” said Sir John.
“Indeed she is-about a month or two gone, I would say. Not so she would show. She may not even know. But we have ways of knowing.”
And then she left us. I watched her go, wondering what those ways of knowing were. From her dark face to her bright garb, she seemed an altogether mysterious sort. Her name did not fit her, nor did her slightly odd manner of speech.
“Who is she, sir? What is she? Her accent of speech was something new to me.”
“Goodwife Moss is a Gypsy, my lad. I do know that mode of speech, for a number have appeared before me in Bow Street, though not many are to be found in the cities. They are, for the most part, country people, traveling people. And did you notice the striking odor of the scent that she wore?”
“Now that you mention it, yes.”
“All Romany females seem to wear it-from the youngest to the very oldest. But let’s go inside, shall we? I cannot say how this bit of knowledge she gave to us will change anything, or if it will at all, but it is certainly of considerable interest, is it not?”
Without awaiting my agreement, he started to the room we had left. I offered him my arm, and in we went. Sir John entered with a question, thus beginning precisely at the point at which he had earlier been interrupted.
“As I recall, in response to your screams, you were beaten upon the head with a heavy walking stick by one of the two young men who had promised to see you home. Is that correct?”
“Yes sir.”
I know not why, but just at that moment I happened to glance over at Clarissa, and noticed that she was sending me a message. Emphatically was she shaking her head in the negative. I noted that neither of the Hooker women could see her in the place she had chosen. Answering with a single affirmative nod, I resolved to discuss the entire matter of Elizabeth’s abduction with Clarissa at the earliest opportunity.
“Then, as you said, you were in a dazed state, not quite fully conscious, yet still moving your feet and stumbling along between the two men. And you were moving in a northerly direction. Is that correct?”
“All of it, yes.”
“How long do you reckon you were going in that way?”
“Well, that’s not easy to say, is it?”
“Perhaps we can work it out. For instance, you must soon have passed out of Covent Garden and onto the surrounding streets. Think back. Do you remember walking upon the streets?”
She gave the matter some thought. “Yes, oh yes, we walked some ways upon the street.”
“You say ‘some ways,’ by which you must also mean some time. Did you hear church bells chiming the hour? St. Paul’s, I believe, strikes every quarter hour. Did you hear it strike once? twice? three times?” Again, she concentrated, pulling a suitably fierce face.
Then, nodding, smiling. “Why yes,” said she, “I believe I heard it strike three times.”
“Good! Then that means that, even considering that there are no straight streets in London, if you had been proceeding in a general northerly direction, you would have been somewhere between Holborn and Clerkenwell- that is, with at least a half hour’s walking time. Is that correct?”
“Well, I suppose so.”
“But now, what I would know from you is how you managed to travel so far in such a state and cause no notice among those you met along the way? Though it was after dark, it was not late. The area north of Covent Garden is one of the most populous in the city. You must have passed dozens along the way. Even Clerkenwell and Holborn have many afoot that time of the evening. What must it have been? Somewhere round eight, would you say? And here are two young men conveying a girl of your years between them. She is disoriented-dazed, by her own admission-so that she can hardly walk. Would you not challenge them? Would you not raise the hue and cry?”
He had hit home. He had upset her. He had penetrated the bravado that had heretofore supported her so well. Her lower lip began to tremble as her eyes began to tear. She was about to lose that edge of containment that had sustained her and made it possible to resist him thus far. Yet she found it in her to strike back.
“How should I know why no one stopped those two and challenged them?” she cried out, holding back the tears. “Ask them, all those people who paraded by me and did nothing to help.”
“But of course you ask the impossi-”
“Wait! Wait!” She shouted it out, interrupting, insisting, attempting to regain control. “Now I remember. There was a man who stopped us and asked to know what was wrong with me. I didn’t get much of a look at him, for I was in that half-conscious way, but I had the idea that he was a watchman or a constable.”
“Oh? And do you recall how your condition was explained?”
“Certainly I do. They said I was drunk.” At that she forced a laugh.
Her mother came to her defense: “Ne’er a drop of the devil’s drink has ever touched Elizabeth’s lips,” said she.
“And never will!” her daughter declared.
“Admirable,” said Sir John. “But let us get back to that constable, or whatever he might have been. Did he give his name?”
“No, he did not.”
Then did a loud, insistent knocking come upon the door. Who could that be? I hurried to open it, and I had barely accomplished that when the door flew out of my hand, and, for a moment, I found myself pushed against the wall.
That moment was just enough to admit three men I recognized from the silversmith’s shop in Chandos Street. They were Mr. Turbott, the proprietor; Mr. Tarkington, the journeyman; and the apprentice who was in his last year, named Joe; these were the three I saw pouring silver at the back of Turbott’s shop. They rushed forward as if to rescue Elizabeth.
“Who is here?” shouted Sir John as he jumped to his feet, ready to do battle, if need be.
Mr. Turbott gave him little attention but rushed to Elizabeth’s side that he might comfort her. It should not be necessary to quote him here, for the words he used were not particularly well chosen. I will say, however, that watching them together gave me a good idea of just who the father of the child growing within her might be. Nevertheless, he managed, after some moments, to tear himself away and identified himself to Sir John as “Elizabeth’s employer.”
“And, I assume,” said Sir John, “that having just heard of her return, you rushed here from your shop to learn as much as you can of all this. Is that correct?”
