A Nest of Vipers (6 page)

Bella laughed. ‘You swear like an old man!’

Addy and Mother Hopkins came in, stamping to rid themselves of the cold.

‘Watch my lock!’ Cato wailed, but Addy made a beeline for the fire and her feet knocked the brass screws, and fixings rolled farther away.

Cato crawled after them. ‘It will take me all day to find the pieces now and that lock was five shillings worth!’ he moaned.

‘I promise I’ll help as soon as my fingers are thawed out,’ Addy said, hands outstretched in front of the flames.

‘And didn’t Old Man Daley give you the lock for nothing?’ Mother Hopkins asked, placing her copious black bag on the table with a thud.

‘Yes, but if I don’t return it, we’ll be paying.’ Cato took a red cotton handkerchief from his back pocket and began collecting up the parts and tying them inside.

‘
You’ll
be paying,’ Bella said, pinching at her cheeks to redden them. ‘I’m off to the White Raven. To pour coffee for gentlemen who are, sadly, gentlemen in name only.’

‘Hah! Then they will appreciate you, being as you are a maid in name only,’ said Cato.

Addy laughed and Bella cuffed him across the side of the head on her way out.

‘You provoke each other too much,’ Mother Hopkins said, sitting in her chair and warming herself. ‘There are enough people in this world who will provoke you without you and Bella making it a family sport. She is
your
sister. You should remember that and treat her so.’

Cato was about to say that very many people treated their flesh-and-blood sisters a good deal worse. He had seen Daley the locksmith’s boy and his sister come to such blows in the street that they pulled whole handfuls of one another’s hair clean out. But he shut his mouth again. He wondered if he had any blood sisters, any real sisters. Girls with hair as black and woolly as his own and skin as dark as the tabletop. He sighed and shook the thought away.

Addy had collected some pieces of lock and handed them over, smiling. Her hair was coming undone from where she had tied it up and it fell around her face.

‘I remembered the name. Of the woman we saw,’ he said.

‘Oh?’ Mother Hopkins looked up.

‘I’ve seen her before, only younger, and then her face was rounder and her hair wasn’t hidden inside that hood . . .’

‘Oh, that velvet cape was so lush!’ Addy said.

‘Cut to the chase, Cato!’ snapped Mother Hopkins.

‘She was that Elizabeth Walker, Captain Walker’s daughter. Of Greenwich,’ Cato said.

Mother Hopkins looked interested and leaned forward. ‘I did read of her wedding in the
London Gazette
. She married John Stapleton, the
honourable
Sir John Stapleton, who is already wealthier than all the nabobs of
India
caught up together in one room. And as soon as his father, the Marquess of Byfield, dies – and the marquess is not long for this world, so I’ve heard – he will have as much gold as the Bank of England. Sir John Stapleton is a member of parliament, a post his father paid handsomely for. Well, that is what’s said.’ Mother took her clay pipe from its place at the side of her chair and tapped it twice to empty out the old tobacco.

‘So she married him, did she?’ Cato said. ‘That Stapleton, that lump of a boy who came calling – I told you about him – he gave her some diamonds. Great rocks like boiled sugar. I never seen the like since. That dullard a member of parliament!’ He shook his head. ‘Wonders never cease.’

‘No, my boy,’ Mother Hopkins said, and smiled. ‘They certainly do not.’

That evening Mother called her family to a meeting. She sat in her chair nearest to the fire as everyone piled in around her. Jack and Sam remained standing, looking flash in their chairman’s livery – long brocade coats and matching hats. Bella sat at the table pouring coffee and Addy and Cato were shelling walnuts as fast as they were being eaten.

‘Bella tells me your mark has found you.’ Jack stood with his back to the fireplace, his hands lifting the tails of his fancy jacket out of the way of the heat.

‘So it seems,’ Mother Hopkins said.

‘Sam and me thought you might try the Careys of Mayfair. They have plenty of money and the eldest son, Alexander, is so free with the rhino it practically falls from his britches as he walks – which of course he never does. You’ll have seen him in Hyde Park driving the best matched pair of Arabians I’ve seen in town! He’s ripe, Mother!’

‘Pah! The Careys!’ Mother spat into the fire.

‘Or Lord Fitzadam,’ Jack continued. ‘That man is so old he is practically waiting to fall into his own grave! And he has no heirs. His money is waiting to be plucked from him before some other rogue does it first.’

Mother Hopkins sat up. ‘Old Fitz never wronged anyone his whole life! You know my ways by now, Jack, and I am not to be tainted with honest money! Never! The man may be old but that does not make him a gull in my book. Old age comes to us all, and although I am sure you can’t believe that now, you will one day.’

Cato said nothing but he smiled. It was always better to take money from those that deserved it. Poor Edgar and his broken heart still weighed heavy on his mind and had caused him to wake in the night more than once. What if a girl treated
him
like that? What if he gave his heart to someone like Bella, who would throw it back in his face while she smiled?

Jack folded his arms and sighed. ‘I know you might
not
pay heed, but me and Sam are of the same mind on this,’ he said, shifting his weight.

‘And what mind is that?’ Mother Hopkins asked, her voice clipped.

‘We don’t like it, Ma, and that’s the truth. Sam especially so.’ Jack took a deep breath and looked at Sam for reassurance before he went on. ‘He says just the thought of having anything to do with those people makes his blood chill.’

Mother Hopkins shifted in her chair. ‘It is, ooh, four, five years past since he worked in their household,’ she said. ‘For a woman like Elizabeth – unless she has changed character – that might as well be a lifetime. And remember, Jack, to those people servants all have but one face, and that counts as double if their skin is not white.’

‘Mother’s right, Jack,’ Cato said. ‘The number of times I am asked if I am so and so’s brother or if I might know a great acquaintance of theirs who just happens to have the same colour skin as me, you would not believe it.’

‘You forget I work with Sam. I know all that!’ Jack reminded them. ‘But Sam is well known about town and he wants no more attention drawn to himself than is possible.’

Mother Hopkins sat back. ‘Our Sam can speak for himself,’ she said, looking straight at him.

Sam shifted and accepted a cup of coffee from Bella.
He
took a sip before answering. ‘I am sorry, Mother. I know what you have done for me. All of you.’ He looked from Addy, to Bella and finally to Cato. ‘I know your bravery. And I am ashamed to admit I am scared of these people. Captain Walker is not a man to be trifled with! And they remind me that I have a mother, a real mother – begging your pardon, Mother Hopkins – who I am powerless to help.’ He looked away and Jack rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Mother Hopkins blew out a cloud of blue smoke before she spoke. ‘So be it. You can stay in the background – but you’ll do any shifting though, any transport we might need, and you’ll be our eyes and ears on the street.’

Sam nodded.

‘We will,’ said Jack. ‘And we’ll come to Bath. We’ve talked it through, and since the Queen is so in love with the place, there’s more nobs than ever taking the waters. We reckon we could clean up. Big fish in a small pond, me and Sam. So we’ll help. But with our heads down on this one, Mother. And you must all tread so carefully. And remember’ – he nodded at Cato – ‘you’ll not forget you’re known to that woman too.’

‘Miss Walker never looked at me for more than half an instant!’ Cato said. He was thinking that as Jack and Sam were backing out, there’d be a chance for him to take a lead in planning and make a role for himself that
didn
’t involve being sold or bought or waiting on others.

‘So you have made your decision already then – it’s to be the Stapletons?’ asked Sam.

Mother Hopkins nodded. ‘One more thing, chickens,’ she said. ‘Not a word more to Ez and Sally in the bar. They know better than to ask questions, and you all should know just as well to keep your mouths shut and your tongues still. This is not their business and I would not have them without work when we leave.’

‘Of course not, Ma,’ Jack said, and the others agreed. ‘And we’re off to the Garden to work!’

‘You will be careful, won’t you, Mother?’ Sam asked before he followed Jack out.

Mother Hopkins smiled at him, her face rosy in the glow of the fire. ‘Oh, we’ll be more than careful, Sam, you know me. I never intend setting foot in Newgate or any other place like it as long as I live and breathe.’

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

The Web Begun

IN THE FRONT
bar of The Vipers, Ezra Spinoza poured the ale into Jack’s own pewter tankard. Jack nodded his thanks and turned to Cato.

‘If that bloody Ivanski gets any nearer to my Bella, I’ll knock his block off and send it back to Russia in a box!’ He slumped forward on the polished wooden bar of The Vipers next to Cato. ‘Bella is mine and no one seems to have told him. Go on, ask anyone, ask ’em! I’m her true love and everyone knows it!’ He downed his ale. ‘I’ve loved her ever since I was younger than you and with no home of my own. Before Mother took me in! Before I knew how to love, I loved her!’ Jack’s grey eyes clouded over. ‘Bella kissed me, told me I was the one for her – we were barely fourteen but I knew she was my . . . my destiny.’

Cato couldn’t help laughing. ‘That is ale talking, Jack!’
he
said. ‘She is Arabella Hopkins! And I know she is soft on you, but how many times has she been married off to others?’

‘That was just work!’ Jack protested. ‘She’ll be wed to me as soon as I can scrape enough cash together.’

‘Then don’t look at her now, Jack!’

‘I can’t help it. It’s like one of them itches you have to scratch. I know she’s there, I know she’s smilin’ at him an’ battin’ her lashes at him, doing the cow eyes just the way she does for me.’

‘Come on, Jack. Come upstairs and forget her. Ez’ll keep an eye on them, won’t you?’

The big man nodded.

Jack sighed. ‘I wish it were that easy. Love, Cato, is a bad mistress.’ He looked once more at Bella simpering at the young man and Cato couldn’t help but look too.

‘You know she has to get the accent right,’ Cato said. ‘And Mother Hopkins couldn’t find any other Russians in a hurry. I suggested it – he keeps that poor bear in a stable over Southwark.’

‘I bet I could have found an uglier one down in Deptford,’ moaned Jack. ‘A real ugly swine with no teeth and tattoos the colour of oranges going mouldy up his arms. I mean, look at your man there!’

Cato looked. The Russian was taller than Jack, and although no better looking – the Russian was fairer with clear blue eyes – he was obviously well-off. He was
dressed
in a fine sheepskin jacket and good leather boots. And it was obvious, even to Cato, that Bella was enjoying her work a little too much.

There was a sudden blast of cold air from the street outside and Addy stood in the doorway carrying a bundle of clothes and wearing the tallest, whitest fur hat Cato had ever seen.

‘Come on, yer leery kinchen, give us a hand or two with these duds!’ she said.

Cato and Jack looked at each other.

‘Addy, you sound more like the thimble twister you are every day!’ Jack shouted across The Vipers, and most of the regulars laughed.

Cato went across and took some of the clothes. ‘You should watch what you say in public,’ he whispered.

‘They all know us here, Cato. We’re coney catchers, and the best around. And what’s more we’ve the salad here to catch those rabbits.’

‘Hah! The Stapletons are rather more than rabbits, Addy.’

‘But rabbits all the same, and this hat is the very thing in St Petersburg. Oi! Ivan,’ Addy said as she walked in front of Bella and the Russian.

‘This good hat, yes? This bene shappo, Ivanski?’ Addy plonked it onto Bella’s head.

The Russian smiled. ‘Da. Is good, yes. Da. Bella real Cossack devotchka.’

‘There. One happy customer,’ said Addy.

Bella smiled, but her words were cold. ‘Hold your tongue, Addy, and go away.’

Addy pulled a face, turned on her heel and strode away. ‘Why does Bella get all the good jobs?’ she said to Cato as they went upstairs. ‘Have you seen the state of these threads? Serious splash-up stuff.’ She held up a jacket edged with fur. ‘If this is the Russian style, I could see me in St Petersburg, sailing into town in one of these!’

‘I thought you hated girls’ clothes,’ said Cato.

Addy shrugged. ‘This is different. I wouldn’t mind being a Russian girl. Just look at these boots!’

Mother Hopkins was sitting at the table writing a letter, pen in one hand, pipe in the other.

‘Addeline, good, you’ve the clothes. And Cato. I must talk to you both.’

She signed the letter and blotted it. Cato read the address on the envelope: it was to the Stapleton house but it was addressed to the housekeeper. Someone would be working inside – he was sure of it.

Mother Hopkins looked up. ‘Bella will be going to a party on Friday night as the Russian.’

Cato looked at Addy. He hadn’t expected things to be moving this quickly, and from the look on her face, neither had she.

‘This Friday? Only three days away? That’s a bit quick,’ Addy said as she warmed herself by the fire.

‘I’m not sure how good her accent will be by then, Mother,’ Cato warned.

‘Bella knows. She’ll have to nail it down or keep her mouth shut. Either way, there’s a party in Mayfair and we need her there. The Stapletons will be attending and we can’t afford to miss it. She’s to be Ekaterina, Countess of . . . of . . .’

‘Of St Petersburg?’ Addy suggested.

‘No! Too obvious.’ Mother Hopkins folded the letter and reached for the stick of red sealing wax, holding it in the candle flame till it softened. ‘Cato? Any ideas? Did you not fetch an atlas from the bookseller’s?’