Page 10 of The Laudanum Ladies' Society

Jenny couldn’t quite bring herself to join in. She would have quite liked to have had a multitude of brightly coloured bonnet ribbons in her youth. As she had lived through successive periods of mourning, that was sadly never to be, but she often found her eyes straying enviously to the fancy styles that younger women wore.

‘The preoccupation with adornments is to blame for the general skittishness of girls, especially of the lower classes,’ Mrs Carruthers added.

‘Oh, yes,’ Jenny couldn’t help but add. ‘A ribbon is definitely a threat to maidenhood.’

‘I sense a little cynicism in your reply.’ Mrs Richmond looked at her sharply and Jenny reminded herself to be cautious. If Mrs Richmond spoke to Reverend Richmond, he would no doubt also speak to Uncle Conrad.

‘What I mean is that the ribbons are a symptom and not the cause. If these young women are wishing to express themselves immodestly through their accessories, then something is lacking in their lives. Someone should seek out the cause of that dissatisfaction, whether it be a want of education or poor health.’

‘Oh yes, I quite agree!’ gushed Mrs Dowson, the wife of the curate. Her pince-nez wobbled on the tip of her pert nose.

‘There is no need for searching, Miss Rosewood,’ said Mrs Richmond tartly. ‘Close study of the Good Book and more attendance at church would soon put an end to whatever foolish or romantic ideals these girls are clinging to sooner than the ideas being eliminated from society.’

There was general murmuring of agreement from the women and an idea crept up on Jenny without warning. She looked around with renewed interest. Here were women who had little to fulfil them other than spending their days allegedly carrying out good deeds (although, Jenny suspected that the real beneficiaries were the women themselves, who were able to find a way of filling their days). They were respectable wives, widows or spinsters. One or two of them fanned themselves surreptitiously, despite the chill of the vestry. They probably took all manner of medicines to alleviate the curse of the change of life. Surely, one or two of them would be eager to find an outlet for the release of the daily boredom of life.

How much more creative they could be with a stimulant more potent than tea. She had a sudden vision of Mrs Dowson or Mrs Richmond painting or singing whilst under the influence, and she had to suppress a giggle that bubbled unexpectedly. Perhaps not Mrs Richmond, she amended. It wasn’t just the thought of the women losing their inhibitions, but the sudden insight into a potential financial opportunity.

If she had an income of her own, there would be no need to go begging to Uncle Conrad. No one to question her financial management or what she needed money for. She let the remainder of the conversation trickle over her, barely paying attention as she worked through the thought. It was providence that she and Mrs Walters had met. Now she just had to persuadethe pharmacist’s wife of the advantages their acquaintance could bring.

The following afternoon, Jenny met Mrs Walters in a respectably dull tearoom close to Highbury Terrace. Mrs Walters was sitting at a corner table, wearing a hat with a curved brim and demure half-veil, and a wide-collared green coat. Her hair was nearly coiled and her creamy complexion unlined, giving her an unruffled and elegant air. Jenny immediately felt acutely conscious of her damp cheeks and racing heart as she weaved her way between the tables.

They exchanged pleasantries while the waiter took Jenny’s order, but once the pot of coffee had arrived, Mrs Walters produced a brown paper bag. Jenny took it discreetly, and raised her eyebrows upon feeling three bottles inside it.

Mrs Walters nodded.

‘The bag contains the bottle you gave me, another that should produce the same effect and a third that I hope will be what your uncle is expecting. I thought you might want to reserve the other one for yourself.’

‘Did you try it?’ Jenny asked.

Mrs Walters looked guilty. ‘Yes, and I can confirm that the new batch works in the same way.’ Her lips quirked. ‘The effect was interesting. I’m not sure I wish to repeat it, but I see the appeal.’

Jenny grinned. Mrs Walters looked like an upright, sensible woman, but clearly she had hidden depths.

‘Why do you think the other bottle will be any different?’ she asked.

‘Because I made it in the same way my husband does, and using his equipment. If it does produce the same surprising effect, then that will give me something to consider.’

‘I will let you know what happens,’ Jenny said. ‘Tomorrow is Thursday, and it is on Thursday that he paints.’

Mrs Walters looked at her curiously. ‘But he takes the tincture every night, doesn’t he? What does the painting have to do with it?’

Jenny shifted in her seat, irked at having let that slip and reluctant to admit to what she did. Then again, she knew enough of Mrs Walters’ secrets, it only seemed fair to share one of hers. ‘On Thursdays, I give him slightly more than usual.’

Mrs Walters looked up eagerly. ‘Why?’

Jenny put the bag in her reticule. ‘I’m afraid that is something I would rather not discuss. At least, not at this point. When we know each other a little better, perhaps I will.’

Mrs Walters gave her another smile and Jenny realised that she would quite like to know Mrs Walters better. Here they were, two apparently respectable women taking coffee together, and no one watching them could possibly guess they were discussing hallucinogenic substances.

‘How much does my uncle pay for his bottle?’ Jenny asked.

‘He doesn’t,’ Mrs Walters answered with a twist of her mouth. ‘He believes in the business owner’s prerogative.’

Jenny shouldn’t have been surprised. She checked in her purse. ‘Well, I shall pay you two shillings. I will let you know the outcome. Perhaps we could meet again this time next week?’

‘I’d like that very much.’ The smile Mrs Walters gave her made Jenny’s heart flicker.

Jenny called for the bill, gently brushing off Mrs Walters’ offer to pay. ‘Before you go…’ she began, then tailed off and gave a small, subtle cough.