Page 51 of The Laudanum Ladies' Society

‘Mrs Walters. I’d like a word with you.’

Gwen recognised the voice and her heart jumped. It was Wolf, Augusta’s man. She kept her head down but walked to him.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.

Wolf chewed something and swallowed before answering. ‘I saw Miss Rosewood leaving your house.’

‘You’ve been watching my house?’ Gwen asked in horror.

He smiled unpleasantly.

‘Of course. Mrs Augusta likes to know what’s going on with her employees.’

The old woman who lived three doors down walked past, openly staring at Gwen talking to a stranger to the area. Gwen raised her voice.

‘I’m afraid you’re on the wrong street for the baker,’ she told Wolf. When Widow Paxton had passed out of earshot, Gwen turned back to Wolf. She crossed her arms and glared at him.

‘Why have you come here?’

‘Mrs Augusta is not happy,’ he answered.

Fear rippled through Gwen as if he had physically grabbed her.

‘Why? The last batch I delivered was perfectly good.’

Wolf grunted. ‘You haven’t answered her question. She sent me to remind you.’

Gwen relaxed, but only a little. She had almost hoped the mixture would turn out to be useless and therefore would no longer be needed. The operation had been carried out, after all. There was nothing more she needed to earn money for. Then again, with Archibald gloomily prophesying a future of poverty, perhaps she had better not be too rash.

‘My husband has had an eye operation. I’ve been busy and I’m afraid it slipped my mind, and even if it hadn’t, Miss Rosewood and I have not been alone to discuss it.’

Wolf laughed nastily. ‘Mrs Augusta shouldn’t slip your mind. Should be right at the front. She won’t be happy to hear that.’

‘No, I’m sorry. I’m sure she will not,’ Gwen said. She forced herself to smile. ‘I promise I will speak to Miss Rosewood inthe next day or two. My husband is well enough for me to leave for an hour so I will be able to go visit her and speak privately. Please tell Mrs Charles we will have an answer to her by early next week.’

‘Sunday,’ Wolf said. ‘Let her know by Sunday.’

Gwen nodded. ‘Sunday, then.’

He grunted. ‘Another thing. Do you sell things to help out women in trouble?’

‘Trouble? I don’t know what you mean,’ Gwen lied, ‘but we sell remedies for a number of different illnesses. Headaches, stomach upsets, coughs…’

‘Something to get rid of unwantedmistakes,’ Wolf replied. If the euphemism hadn’t been familiar to Gwen, the way his eyes flickered and his lips turned down, added weight to the unlawful nature of the enquiry.

There were fairly reliable methods that did not involve such brutality to the woman concerned. The newspapers were full of advertisements for draughts that every woman, and presumably most men, knew were abortifacients, however unreliable or dangerous. Gwen was inclined to agree with Archibald’s assessment that these were probably more likely to damage the woman or fail to empty the womb. Nothing was sold in the pharmacy for that purpose, of course, but when she had been younger in Wales, her grandmother, Nain Bevan, had known methods that would reliably end a pregnancy. Women would occasionally come to her grandmother’s cottage, begging for help to restore their monthly courses or remove a blockage. Gwen had occasionally helped Nain by pounding certain plants and leaves.

‘Why do you want to know?’ she asked, wondering which unfortunate woman had let herself be seduced by Wolf.

‘Not me. Mrs Augusta Charles.’

An icy shiver ran down Gwen’s neck. ‘Why does she want to know? She must be past the age where she needs to dispose ofmistakes.’ Gwen added an inflection to the word to tell him she knew damn well what he was referring to.

‘Some of her girls get into trouble and want to get out of it,’ he replied. ‘But if you can’t help then there’s always someone with a handy crochet hook.’

He leered and Gwen felt a wave of nausea. Jabbing and scraping away was the worst option, and the offer to provide a less violent alternative ran to her tongue, before wisdom cautioned her against becoming any more involved in Augusta’s business.

‘I’ll speak to Miss Rosewood about the other matter as soon as I am able,’ she said.