Page 54 of The Laudanum Ladies' Society

‘I thought you would agree to it.’ Gwen slowed her pace. ‘Oh dear, now I’m undecided again. I don’t feel safe, and I would much rather not, but I don’t see what else we can do. Something just feels wrong about it.’

‘What do you think she’s going to do? Try to steal our recipe?’

‘Yes, not to put too fine a point on it. She’s ambitious, and what we have could be worth a lot of money. She didn’t rise to the position she’s in by not being ruthless?—’

Gwen stopped walking and turned to Jenny. ‘I don’t like her. There it is. I don’t trust her, either. And I worry that if we get on the wrong side of her there will be repercussions.’

Jenny nodded. ‘I have been wondering whether we should stop making it, or at least stop making it for Augusta,’ she ventured.

‘Why would we do that?’ Gwen’s eyebrows rose. ‘I don’t like the idea of working in her establishment– it feels a little like I’d be walking into a lion’s den to carve bacon– but I don’t think we should stop altogether.’

‘Perhaps we should sell her the recipe for as large a sum as we can manage, and end our association,’ Jenny said.

‘It’s my creation. I’m not going to do that!’ Gwen said firmly.

‘You didn’t want to make it in the first place,’ Jenny pointed out.

‘And you wanted me to!’ Gwen snapped.

‘I did, but…’ Jenny took a deep breath. If she could write to Miriam explaining she had stopped making the hated substance, that would demonstrate her remorse and Miriam might forgive her.

‘I need to end my involvement completely,’ she said. ‘My friend has heard about what we do and will have no part in it, and has cut off all ties with me.’

Gwen sighed sympathetically. ‘I’m very sorry to hear about your friend, but I can’t stop. I won’t! You heard what my husband said this afternoon. His eyesight may only last another three or four years, and then he will be out of a job, and we may be out of a home.’

‘But my uncle said he would help.’

‘I know what your uncle said, and though I thought his offer was generosity and kindness itself, my husband was not happy about it.’

Gwen smiled gently then shook her head, her eyes filling with sadness. ‘We are actually making money, Jenny. More than I ever thought we could. Just one or two more years will give methe chance to save a nest-egg so we can live. You could actually consider leaving your uncle’s home. Isn’t that what you want?’

Two more years. Jenny couldn’t deceive Miriam that long.

‘I want my friend to forgive me. If I could think of an alternative, I would. I do worry about the morality of what we’re doing.’

Gwen looked at her sharply. ‘Did you consider the morality of it when you drugged your uncle and blackmailed me into making you another bottle?’

Jenny drew a breath. The chickens of recklessness had come home to roost. ‘No, but I should have.’

They’d reached the lecture theatre, so joined the queue, and that appeared to be the end of the conversation for the time being. Jenny paid for both of them, dismissing Gwen’s offer by pointing out that a gentleman wouldn’t let a woman pay for herself.

‘You’re a remarkable woman,’ Gwen murmured as they took their seats at the end of a bench. Her eyes darted around as Jenny stiffened. ‘Don’t worry, no one heard me. It’s true and I hope you and your artist manage to make up.’

‘So do I,’ Jenny sighed.

The lecture proved to be rather dull, as the man who was reading from Lady Hester’s memoirs broke off frequently to give his opinions and share anecdotes about his own visit to the area. Gwen had appeared rapt, however. They were making their way back along the road when she stopped abruptly and tugged on Jenny’s arm.

‘Look, isn’t that one of Augusta’s men? The one whose name I don’t know.’

She pointed towards a pub where groups of people were standing outside. Jenny recognised the man in question as the heavy-set, bald man who had been standing at the bar when they’d gone through on the first visit to the chop house.

‘Do you think he’s followed us?’ Gwen asked anxiously.

‘I doubt it,’ Jenny answered soothingly. Gwen sounded genuinely apprehensive. The encounter outside her house must have unnerved her more than she had let on. ‘He looks like he’s been there for a while as his pint glass is half empty. He couldn’t have known we’d walk this way.’

Jenny looked back at him. The bruiser was standing with one arm up against the wall, leaning casually as he spoke to a young lady whose red hair was barely tamed beneath her bonnet.

‘I know that girl,’ Jenny said thoughtfully. ‘She’s the housemaid at my friend’s lodgings.’