Death of a Stranger - Anne Perry [49]
A little before midnight Jessop called again, pressing for higher rent. He stood in the middle of the floor with his thumbs hooked into the armholes of his red brocade waistcoat, trying to add restrictions and generally making a nuisance of himself. The few women who were hurt or ill had already complained of his presence, and would do so again if he kept on coming. He made them wary; he represented authority, no matter how distantly. Hester pointed that out to him and asked him to leave. He smiled with satisfaction and remained the longer, until Bessie lost her temper and filled the bucket with hot water, lye, and vinegar. She started to scrub the floor, splashing the bucket’s contents all over his boots deliberately, and he left in umbrage. Bessie then made a very slapdash effort at cleaning a couple of yards of the floor, then threw the good water away. She and Hester curled up on two of the empty beds and slept on and off, undisturbed by patients for most of the night, only getting up twice to help Alice.
“I put a weapon into his hand, didn’t I!” Margaret said with chagrin when Hester told her about Jessop’s visit early on the following morning when she arrived just after nine o’clock, and Bessie had gone for some shopping.
Margaret was too honest for Hester to patronize her with an excuse. Today of all days she felt a burning need for candor.
“I’m afraid so,” she agreed, but with a rueful smile to rob it of offense. They were busy seeing what bandages could be saved from those used and washed. They were not in a position to afford any unnecessary supplies. “But I don’t think it will make any difference in a while. We’ll have to find a new place as soon as we can. He’ll put us out at the first opportunity. He was always going to do that.”
Margaret did not reply. Her fingers moved nimbly over the rolls of cloth, sorting some out and throwing them away, keeping the others. “What are we going to do about the usurer and the women who are being beaten?” she said at last.
Hester had been thinking about just that since she had first learned the truth from Alice, and had come to the conclusion that by themselves there was nothing they could do that did not risk making the situation worse. The usury was not a crime that the law could reach in the ordinary way. She had toyed with other ideas, but never formed any coherent plan they might be capable of carrying out.
This morning she felt even more helpless in the face of pain, because her own happiness was dimmed, her confidence in herself shadowed by the fact that Monk had placed a distance between them. Something hurt him, and he was not able to share it with her.
“We need help,” she said aloud. Already her mind was made up. “Someone who knows the law far better than we do.”
“Mr. Monk?” Margaret said quickly.
“No, I meant a lawyer.” Hester refused to allow herself to be hurt by the thought that it was not Monk she would turn to. “Someone who knows about usury, and that kind of thing,” she answered. “I think we should go as soon as legal offices will be open. Bessie will be back by then, and it is not very likely anyone will come in during the morning who can’t wait for us to return.”
“But who could we find who would be interested in cases like Fanny or Alice?” Margaret asked. “And we have no spare money to pay with. Everything is already committed to rent and supplies.” She said that firmly, just in case Hester should be inclined to be impractical and forget their priorities.
“I know at least where to