Fallen Grace - Mary Hooper [46]
Grace moved slightly to one side to allow the bearers access to remove the iron grille and slide the coffin on to its final resting place. Following this, the cleric gave a last blessing, the members of Wilkins-Boyes-Haig’s family said their own private farewells and, slowly, ushered along by Mr George Unwin, the mourners moved off towards the steps and the upper world of the living.
Apart from one.
‘Forgive me,’ came a whisper, ‘but didn’t we meet at Brookwood?’
Grace, startled and rather alarmed, looked up to see Mr James Solent standing before her, his top hat beneath his arm. Feeling her face turning pink, she was glad that he wouldn’t be able to see it for the veils.
‘I mean, it’s difficult for me to see you properly what with the darkness and the flummery,’ he said, making a gesture to indicate Grace’s veiling, ‘but it is you, is it not? I fear I am at a disadvantage, as you never told me your name.’
Grace gathered herself and curtseyed. ‘It is me. My name is Grace, sir.’
‘Call me James, please. Are you well, Grace?’
‘Thank you, yes.’
‘I’ve often thought about you since that day at Brookwood, for you seemed so frail and vulnerable. I wondered how you were faring.’
‘Thank you for your concern,’ Grace said a little stiffly, thinking of how she’d gone to his chambers and been turned away. She pointed to her mourning clothes. ‘But you see me now in circumstances which have improved somewhat.’
‘Indeed,’ he said, raising an eyebrow. ‘You seem to have joined the death trade.’
Grace nodded, a little embarrassed, for he didn’t sound as if he approved.
‘May I ask how that came about?’
‘It wasn’t, perhaps, what I might have wished,’ Grace said in a low voice, ‘but my sister and I were turned out of our room and had nowhere to go. We would have been on the streets if the Unwin family hadn’t taken us both in.’
James shook his head, rather surprised. ‘Forgive my lawyer’s curiosity, but what were the circumstances of your losing your home?’ he asked. ‘Did you fall into arrears with your rent?’
‘No, indeed!’ Grace said with some indignation. ‘It merely happened that one day we got back to the house and found it boarded up. I was told that the site is to be developed.’
James sighed. ‘I fear that this is happening all over London: businessmen are buying up the land for railways, offices and industry. They promise to build new homes, but these don’t always appear.’
‘’Tis not right!’ Grace said. ‘What about all those who find themselves homeless? Is there nothing that can be done?’
‘Very little, I’m afraid. There are charities one can apply to; places where you might be taken in.’
‘I could not have abided that,’ Grace said immediately, for he seemed to be suggesting that they could have gone into a workhouse. ‘When it happened – when we were made homeless – I came to ask your advice,’ she said, suddenly deciding to confront him with how she’d been treated.
‘Did you?’
Grace tried to judge whether he was surprised or already knew this, and decided it was impossible to tell. ‘The man who came to the door of your chambers turned me away. He was very abrupt.’
‘Then I can only apologise,’ he said, ‘and I shall tell Meakers that if you ever come again he must show you every courtesy. Believe me when I say that I –’
But before he could finish the sentence there came the sound of footsteps along the corridor and Mr George Unwin appeared out of the darkness. Grace, who had been booked to stand for another two hours beside the coffin, immediately returned to a mute-like silence, eyes lowered, head bowed, hands clasped. James Solent, who looked as if he might have had a lot more to say to Grace, merely nodded at Mr Unwin, replaced his top hat and walked away.
x
Chapter Seventeen
Four Conversations
Miss Charlotte Unwin had never entered a scullery before, and hoped that she’d never have to again. It wasn’t just because it was icy cold that it was so uncongenial, but because it was