Fallen Grace - Mary Hooper [27]
Inside Mrs Macready’s house it was dim, dusty and as silent as the grave, as if it had already given up on life. Lily was crying before they even got to their room, and when Grace pushed open the door she began crying, too, for the room was completely bare: bed, blanket, pillow and the crates containing the little items that the girls had still owned all gone. The room was absolutely empty apart from the two small white business cards on the mantelpiece, standing out brightly in the darkness.
x
‘Where shall we go now, then?’ Lily asked, looking trustingly at Grace as they walked along the Strand. Lily’s tears had dried, she had been reassured (promised, for it was the only way that Grace could stop her from crying) that things would soon come right again.
‘We are going to a young gentleman I know, Mr James Solent,’ said Grace. ‘He’s a very clever legal man who will help us.’
James Solent, Susannah Solent . . . Grace, making the connection, felt her heart ache within her. My baby lies safely with Susannah Solent, she thought. But this did not console her; instead it made her want to weep and sob and tear at her clothes. Everything about her life was wretched.
Reaching the beginning of Fleet Street, with the elegant spires and pinnacles of the Royal Courts of Justice coming into view, Grace looked again at the card she held in her hand and then nervously approached a doorman to ask if he knew the way to Moriarty Chambers. He directed them across the road and under an archway, where another uniformed man asked what they wanted. Grace showed him the business card at the same moment that a hansom cab clattered up, however, and he waved them on without even looking at what was written on it.
Through the arch, a cobbled lane opened out to a different, much more genteel world: a spacious park-like area with grass and trees, and beyond that the grey streak of the Thames. Legal men in white collars and black gowns, some with curling grey wigs, walked busily to and fro. Some had files under their arms, some pulled boxes on wheels which were full of papers, and none spared a moment to glance at either of the girls.
Lily gazed about them, enjoying the unusual scene and peaceful atmosphere. ‘Is Mr Solent one of those funny men in a wig?’ she asked.
‘I’m not sure,’ Grace replied. Was he? More importantly, would he help them? Would he even remember his promise to her?
Spaced all around the park-like area were handsome buildings and, walking closer to these, Grace saw that they all had names painted above their arched doorways. She found Moriarty Chambers to be the last one in a terrace of six, its long windows overlooking the river.
‘Do you think it was the Pope boys who took our things?’ Lily chattered as Grace tried to compose herself to knock at the door. ‘I bet it was them, for once when I let Matthew into our room he kept looking at my shell and saying that he liked it.’
Grace didn’t remind Lily that she’d always told her to stay away from the Popes and that she should never have let him in the room in the first place, because none of that really mattered now. What mattered was that their lives were unravelling, and if James Solent couldn’t help them then she had no idea what she was going to do next.
She climbed the stone steps to the front door of the big house and rang the bell.
Nothing happened.
‘Ring again!’ Lily called up from street level. ‘Can I ring it this time?’
Grace ignored her and, after a polite interval, rang the bell again. Twice. It was eventually opened by an elderly man in a pinstriped suit.
‘Yes?’ he asked, frowning at Grace. It was not usual for women to enter the hallowed land belonging to the Inns of Court, and recently two prostitutes had come in through the gate as bold as anything, dressed scantily and flaunting the names of several