Page 28 of The Unfortunate Debutante
Simeon had just turned the corner when he heard a noise coming from the back of the property. He took a step back, shielding himself, as he waited to see if the noise repeated itself. He was surprised when he saw Miss Pearson appear on the top of the wall and was even more surprised when he saw her climb down with slow but sure movements. What in the dickens was she doing?
Miss Pearson glanced both ways before she started walking down the pavement away from Mrs. Gupper’s townhouse. Staying far enough away to avoid detection, he followed her as she turned onto Bosky Street where the streets narrowed, the buildings were darkened, and the odor of excrement was pungent.
To add to his confusion, she stopped a scruffy older man on the street, and she appeared to ask him a question. The man pointed further down the street. She smiled and continued on her way, appearing blissfully unaware of the commotion she was causing among the men milling about. They were eyeing her as if she was a piece of candy. Did this woman not have a lick of sense?
Miss Pearson gripped her reticule tightly in her hand as she approached The Tubby Wench public house. To his horror, she gripped the handle and opened the door.
Forget keeping himself concealed, he thought, as he charged towards the door, I need to save this madcap woman!
The moment Emmaopened the door to the clamorous pub, she knew that she hadn’t fully thought this through. Raggedly dressed men filled the small, dimly-lit hall, and a few scantily clad women were pushing through the crowd to serve drinks. Between the smell of ale and the odor emanating from the dirty-faced men, a foul, putrid stench engulfed the hall.
A few men glanced her way, with a lecherous gleam in their eyes, causing her to shudder in fear. Emma realized that the one bullet in her overcoat pistol would not be sufficient to protect her against these men and their vile intentions. Now was not the time to question herself, she thought. She would accomplish what she came here for and then figure out the rest later… assuming she made it that far.
Banishing that wayward thought, she approached the crude bar and waited for a round-faced barkeep to acknowledge her. She waited and waited as he filled tankard after tankard of ale, barely sparing her a glance. Finally, she found her voice and spoke up.
“Excuse me, sir.”
He huffed. “You’re wasting your breath, lady. I’m not serving you a drink.”
Looking down at the grime-coated tankards, Emma was thankful for that. “I just want to ask you a question.”
The man stilled with a tankard in his hand. “Why?”
“I was hoping you might know a man named Jerome.”
Lowering the tankard to the table, he repeated his question. “Why?”
Emma took a step closer to the bar and lowered her voice. “I want to ask him a few questions about the Anti-Corn Law rebels.”
Giving her an exasperated look, the barkeep tossed a rag over his shoulder as he yelled, “Jerome!”
A thin man, no older than she, dressed in a faded shirt, trousers held up by twine, and boots that had more holes than tread, ran up to him.
“Yes, sir,” he asked breathlessly.
The barkeep jabbed his thumb towards her. “This lady wants to speak to you.”
Jerome turned his attention towards her. “How may I help you, ma’am?”
“I’m a friend of your sister’s.”
His eyes grew wide and fearful. “Oh no. Has something happened to Peggy?”
Emma shook her head. “No, not at all.” She took a step closer, attempting to keep their conversation private. “Peggy is my lady’s maid, and she told me where I could find you. I was hoping to ask you a few questions.”
“Ye’re Miss Emma Pearson,” Jerome responded knowingly, his eyes darting around the room. “Ye shouldn’t be here. This place is dangerous for any woman, but especially for a respectable lady such as yerself.”
“I wanted to speak to you about the Anti-Corn Law reb…”
“Say no more,” he declared forcefully. “Are ye mad?”
She frowned at his aggressive tone. “I am not. I want to interview…”
Her words were stilled when he grabbed her arm and led her towards an unoccupied corner of the room. He remained close and kept his voice low. “It’s not safe to speak here. Bow Street Runners could be in this very room.” He glanced nervously over his shoulder. “I can’t risk talking for too long. This job is the only thing keeping me and my family from starving.”
Emma pulled out three shillings and extended it towards him. “I would like to pay you for your time.” She could see the regret in his eyes as he accepted the coins in his red, blistered hands.
“It ain’t right that ye are paying to speak to me, but I thank ye for your generosity, Miss Pearson.”
