Page 30 of The Laudanum Ladies' Society

‘My dear girl, I’m afraid nobody’s investment makes much. In this day and age, all returns are small.’ Conrad took off his glasses and polished them on his handkerchief, then replaced them.

‘I can assure you, I was very diligent when I first invested it and did so with the best return in mind, and when you take into consideration the broker’s fees and tax and suchlike, there really is very little left. It means that I don’t have to support you to the extent of bankrupting myself putting food on your plate and clothes on your back.’

‘I wasn’t trying to suggest you hadn’t taken care of the money,’ Jenny said hastily. She poured the coffee while she considered his words. She added sugar and cream to both cups. Inspired by Miriam’s independence, she had made the coffee herself rather than asking the kitchen maid to prepare it but it looked grainier, and had a slightly burnt aroma that wasn’t pleasant. Still, there had to be a first time for everything. She wouldn’t be able to take it black and bitter, though, however hard she tried.

‘I suppose I hadn’t thought about the broker’s fees and suchlike. Would it be worth considering changing the company or whatever it is? What is it invested in?’

‘This and that,’ Conrad said. ‘I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you off the top of my head, though when I speak to my accountant at the year’s end, I am sure I could find out on your behalf, if you wish. His charges are very reasonable, so I’m sure it would be worth your while.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Jenny said, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. ‘I was just idly wondering.’

‘This is unlike you, Jenny. You have never shown interest in financial matters before. I do hope I didn’t alarm you with my talk of economising at the end of last year.’ Conrad leant forward and patted her hand gently. ‘There will still be money for your dresses.’

‘I’m not worried about dresses,’ Jenny said. ‘I was simply wondering how efficiently the money was making interest, and how wealthy I would be if I needed to purchase something.’

She stopped talking, aware that she didn’t really sound very financially astute.

‘I’m afraid you’re sadly mistaken if you think you would be rich if I turned the capital over to you, and I would advise strongly against it. The sum is safer invested alongside my investments where it can grow.’

He coughed and looked at the clock on the mantelpiece.

‘Would you like me to fetch your tonic?’ Jenny asked.

‘Yes, please.’ He smiled at her. ‘You’re a good girl, Jenny. I do not regret for a moment giving you a roof over your head and supporting you. Never think I begrudge that expense.’

‘I’m very grateful that you and Aunt Mabel took me in,’ Jenny said. It was disappointing to hear that she had so little to survive on and her inheritance returned such a small amount. Even if she took the capital, it wouldn’t go very far.

She poured him out a measure of his tonic then went into the small sitting room with the piano and played for an hour, practising scales and arpeggios. If she had worked harder as a child and young woman, might she have been able to offer lessons to beginners? She was reasonably competent but it felt too late to start exploring that. She had no means to support herself independently, other than the tincture. She retired to her room and wrote a brief note to Miss Salisbury, agreeing to meetwith the intriguing Mrs Charles. She was sure Gwen would be of the same mind, and even if she weren’t, Jenny decided she would pay a call anyway.

Less than a week later, Jenny and Gwen found themselves in Miss Salisbury’s carriage, travelling at speed through streets that became increasingly down at heel. Gwen peered out of the window.

‘This isn’t exactly where I imagined we would be going,’ she whispered to Jenny, sitting beside her.

Miss Salisbury was seated opposite them, travelling forward. She had exceptional hearing, it appeared, because she leant slightly forward and fixed Gwen with one of those penetrating stares that were so disconcerting.

‘What did you imagine our destination would be, Mrs Walters?’ she asked.

Gwen looked flustered. ‘Well, I suppose something a little more like your house. Your home was so grand and beautiful, and in such a lovely street. This area doesn’t look like somewhere I would expect a friend of yours to live.’

She stopped talking and smiled nervously.

‘One should never confine oneself to friends based on their address,’ Miss Salisbury said. ‘Only the narrowest of minds fails to see the potential in people based on their circumstances, and as I told you on our previous meeting, I like to collect interesting people.’

‘Yes. Of course.’ Gwen fiddled with her hands and stared out of the window again.

Jenny felt a pang of sympathy, though privately wondered how far across London Miss Salisbury’s friends were spread.Since being unwilling eavesdroppers to the enthusiastic lovemaking that Miss Salisbury had been engaged in, Jenny had revised her opinion of the older woman. She had also spent a considerable amount of time speculating over her relationship to Uncle Conrad, simultaneously wishing she could banish the thoughts of them together.

She glanced past Gwen to the window, privately agreeing with Gwen’s surprise. Grey streets went past, the roads becoming narrower and more dilapidated as the coach travelled south. It was an area that came alive at night with music halls and theatres, but during the day, it was dull and more rundown than where any of the three women lived. Children dressed in a ragged assembly of greys and browns played barefoot in the alleyways, darting out to gawp at the carriage as they passed.

Not too long ago, they had passed the canal basin, where Jenny had first met Miriam and her stomach had given a little quiver as she thought of the artist. She hadn’t visited Miriam since that gloriously unexpected afternoon she had spent in her company. She had promised she would, but the feelings were too dangerous to really contemplate. With her more recent conversation about the state of her finances looming like a dark cloud over her, there was little point imagining a future where she and Miriam could live together as companions. Sherealised she was wool-gathering and had missed the conversation.

‘Can you tell us a little bit more about where we’re going?’ Gwen was asking.

‘No need. We have arrived,’ Miss Salisbury said.

The carriage drew to a halt just before the crossroads on the corner of a busy street. The façades of the buildings were blackened with soot and the chipped and peeling paintwork spoke of neglect. They only building that did not look dilapidated was a large pub that was painted with a livery ofred and gold. A smart sign on the wall between the two sash windows and painted with glossy paint proclaimed it to be:

Augusta’s Chop House. Established 1865.