Adele Varens 4

 

Chapter 4

 

The next place I tried had a service alley without mews, and the path to it was kept swept. This made it particularly convenient.

The basement windows were quite easy to force, and unlock; the servants’ quarters were furnished with cheap materials. I went in through the footmen’s sleeping quarters, knowing full well that they were at their evening meal, preparatory to serving the family when they returned from the theatre, and who would not want to be disturbed by any unseemly noises of hunger from their footmen. Picking the time was important, and this is where reconnaissance came in handy. Unlike large country houses, town servants ate in the kitchen, at the front, with windows onto the area; and hence easy to see when they feasted.  And all the servants were there. By picking my time, I had a clear hour in which to go on my burglarious way.

I was not intending to be greedy.

I wanted to be in, and out, without anyone being any the wiser.

I did not touch any silver, nor the expensive pieces of jewellery which were on display; nor any pieces which looked as if they were kept only for sentimentality. I went through every salon, sitting room, and boudoir, doing my usual trick of looking for loose change in the soft furnishings; and was as lucky in so doing as anywhere else, but with the odd high denomination coin and even the odd banknote as well.  Knowing what I had learned from working for Sam Cohen had me rifling through the pockets of suits hung in wardrobes, or carelessly laid out. Anything missing was more likely to be put down to having mislaid it than to theft. My intent was that nobody should have any idea that they had been burgled, and I hoped to keep it that way. 

I picked such jewellery as earrings, which are easy enough to lose, and watches which looked as if they had been in jewel boxes for a long time, and had no inscription. Such things might go to sundry scattered pawnbrokers, rather than try to sell them. I would get a pittance, but it was something.

Between rag-picking twice a week – I developed a nasty cough to explain my reluctance to work more often – and begging and pocket-picking on the side, I was pulling in five or six pounds a week even without the odd burglary. Allowing for my outgoings, the ten-and-six for the room with meal, coal, candles, toiletries, and eating out, I spent perhaps two guineas a week. Mostly, I had a clear profit of close on four pounds.

I was able to open a bank account as Mrs. Sara Deleven, into which the greater part of the monies I had brought with me went, as well as my weekly profits. My money was going to work for me, accruing interest.

 

I did not say how much my first endeavour in burglary brought in.

Men are so careless with bank notes in their pockets.

I walked away with close on fifty pounds.

Of course, the jewellery I left was worth hundreds; but also, it was dangerous. I had no idea about how to find a fence, to get rid of it; and I had a good idea that no fence would pay anything like a true market value for it. No, jewellery was trouble. Cash is always anonymous, and most friendly to the person who holds it last to spend it.

I wanted a cushion of close to a thousand pounds for the thought which was formulating in my mind. But I’d settle for an average of fifty quid from each of the other places I was contemplating.

Next time I would go for the pockets of suits first, so I had the best haul I could, in case I had to get out in a hurry. One lives and learns.

 

I could not believe my luck with the next house.

The footmen were taking delivery from Fortnum and Mason. I noted aprons in the back of their delivery carriage, and flung one on, and carried a box from the pile in to hand to a footman, who set off with it back towards the belowstairs domain.

I ran up the stairs instead of going out of the front door, hurling myself round its bend just as a genuine delivery boy came in. I continued stealthily on up to the second floor, where the bedrooms were to be found. There were a lot of occupied rooms here; several young sons at school or university, and currently away from home, so I would go the third floor for their chambers next, and the householder’s father-in-law, who had his own suite, but liked to accompany his daughter and her husband and their oldest daughter to the theatre.

A methodical search yielded reticules of both mother and daughter, hung up with the costumes they matched, and stuffed with change, and a few good bank notes as well.

And as for those boys! 

Well, the younger ones had their pockets to let, but the older ones left money all over the place. And a good few betting slips with modest wins; my urchin persona must cash those in. Betting slips were as anonymous as money.

I did go through the parlours and boudoirs as well; and it was worth my while. I let myself downstairs by the servants’ stair, just in time, and slipped out of the back door as the footmen were heading for their rooms to spruce up for the return of the family.

This house was semi-detached, and had a passage down between it and the property next door. I went over the back gate with all the lithe grace of someone who had been training their jumping and climbing abilities.

And when I got home and added it up, I had more than three hundred pounds. A small fortune! I knew I would never do as well again, but this was a nice boost.

 

I did work methodically through the other houses; and I exited one in a hurry, jumping out of an upstairs window into a nice soft, if smelly, midden, with less than thirty pounds. Bad luck happens too. But I had close on four hundred in total, and so I was near my avowed cushion of a thousand pounds in the bank.

Now it was time for the next part of the plan.

After Easter, I would need less coal, but on the other hand, people would be less generous to beggars, and long, light evenings would put a stop to burgling so easily. I would not be able to save as much.

Let me be scrupulously truthful here, too.

The novelty of being independent had worn off, and I was tired.

I wanted to let my body finish growing up, and decide what I wanted to do with life. I had no intention of picking rags, begging, and stealing for the rest of my life; it was a stopgap to give me a good starting point to live the sort of life Adele Fairfax Rochester should have led before my stupid father ruined himself and stole my dreams in burning down Thornfield Hall, that gracious early Tudor mansion, a perfect setting for a young lady to be brought out.

I was determined that I would have a place in society, one way or another. And for that, I needed to continue my education. In short, I would have to go back to school, though never, of course, Mrs. Fielding’s.

So, it was up to Mrs. Deleven to find a nice, healthy, liberal school, and enrol her granddaughter in it, the fees coming from her bank account.

And it would be the last place anyone would look for me.

 

 

In my persona as Sara Deleven, I visited two schools. I took an instant dislike to the head preceptress in one, who was fanatic about teaching by the scientific method, healthy minds in healthy bodies, cold water baths and a lot of physical jerks. Most of the children seemed more cowed than healthy.

The other school’s head preceptress was a large, comfortable sort of woman named Celia Bridges, who was a jolly sort of large woman, not the mean sort. And when my ‘dear Grandmama’ had visited, she had made sure to check out how healthy the children looked, and whether they were cowed.  Mrs. Bridges – the ‘Mrs.’ was for courtesy – employed three sisters, who, being all ‘Miss Snelling’ answered to Miss Alice, Miss Flossie, and Miss Edie.

Miss Alice was the oldest, a lean and keen-eyed woman. Miss Flossie was round and fat and reminded me of a well-cared-for house cat. Miss Edie laughed a lot.  Between them they covered a lot of ground in a school for twenty pupils at just thirty-five guineas a year.  I was impressed by the price, considering that was only a little more than Mrs. Fielding charged per term; but then, there were no tennis courts or toxophily range, indeed, no real grounds at all.

“I believe that fitness should come naturally with enjoyment,” said Mrs. Bridges. “I hold that you cannot beat dancing for fitness, which is, moreover, a skill which aids social development.  We encourage the girls to play badminton for fun, and play natural childhood games like ‘tag,’ under supervision, and one thing we do have in the garden is an old oak tree which is very easy to climb, as well as having ladders up to a treehouse. The treehouse has to be booked in advance by small groups of girls for meetings, tea parties, or whatever; and of course, tea parties are lemonade parties, no question of trying to get hot water up a tree.” She added, “Between you and me, a child with a loving grandparent will be good for some of my charges. I have girls who are not wanted very much, or are only wanted enough to be given good education and kept from public scrutiny.”

“Not an easy situation,” ‘Grandmama’ said.

Mrs. Bridges sighed.

“I do try to give them all some love, to make up for what they do not have at home; though of course in a school, one must have a degree of discipline to ensure faireness for all.”

The youngest pupil, who was four, was sitting on her lap at this time; so I believed her.

It sounded ideal, and I arrived without fanfare.

Mrs. Bridged hugged me, which was a shock, but I duly kissed her on each cheek.

“Ah, my little French child,” said Mrs. Bridges. “I am sure that you will have much to exchange with the others. Girls! You have a new sister here, in Adele.  She will be in a class with Mary, Nelly, Frances-Anne, and Celia. It is a lot to take in at once, Adele, but I will tell you all the names, and in time you will learn them. Miss Edie has the under tens, Philippa, Amy, Ellen-Ruth, Sarah, Jennie, and Mary-Jane. You will not see as much of them. Bab and Hannie are ten, and Rosetta is eleven, and they form another class.”

I found out later that Rosetta was a dancer’s daughter, but nobody was allowed to look down on her for it.

“You’re stuck with us,” said Mary, cheerfully.

“There are two older classes,” said Mrs. Bridges. “The three Elizabeths, Bessie, Liza, and Bet, who are with Mary-Ann; and the three oldest, Hannah, Sarah, and Jemima. Another Sarah, but neither of them like to be Sally, so you will have to tell them apart by size.”

“I have been to a school where we were ‘Miss this’ and ‘Miss that,’” I said.

“We have none of that here; we try to be one big happy family,” said Mrs. Bridges. “Of course, even the best of families have quarrels and fallings out, but we try to adjudicate differences as well as possible.”

It sounded almost too good to be true; but she seemed to believe in the idea, and I was willing to give it a try.

I went off with Mary, Nelly, Frances-Ann and Celia. Four other girls should not be too much of an ordeal to learn to live with.

 

 

 

We exchanged surnames.

I confess it was a surprise to me that I realised that Mary Wakefield was the subject of some of the blackmail material I had in that little notebook. As far as I could gather, the blackmailer had been a plumber, who, of course, had access to all sorts of houses, and all sorts of places in those houses.  Mary was the daughter of the housekeeper, conceived when the lady of the house, who held the purse-strings, was unwell. Mary had a half-brother a few months older than she, though neither of them was aware of the other, and Mary rarely if ever even saw her mother. I considered that perhaps I was better off than some other illegitimate children. She was cheerful enough, a brunette with a light curl to her hair.

“Hello, I’m Mary,” she greeted me.  “Do you have a deep dark secret like some of us, or are you happily ordinary?” she said.

“Me, I am quite ordinary but half French,” I said. “My Papa was French, but when Maman died, I went to live with my English Grandmama. I am Adele Deleven, as I use Grandmama’s name. She is old, and thinks I should have the fun of school.”

“Oh, famous! You will be able to help us with our French,” said Mary. “We have a visiting master and he hates us all.”

“Then he is a fool,” I said. “Who are the rest of you?”

“I am Celia Borrowdale, and as the oldest, I am class monitor; it means I can have some say over your behaviour,” said one of the others. She was tall and blonde and very English, but she had a nice smile. “These are Frances-Ann Golightly,  and Nelly Franks.” Frances-Ann was a solemn  looking girl with spectacles and she gave me a curt nod. Nelly beamed at me. She was ginger-haired, and like me, had rather prominent front teeth.

“And we do not call Frances-Ann ‘Fanny-Anny’ because she gets upset,” said Nelly.

“Nelly!” snapped Frances-Ann.

“Well, at least your surname is not ‘Stein,’ Frances-Anne,” I said. “Or doubtless people would call you Frank-Ann.”

This seemed  to puzzle her, so perhaps she was not as studious as I thought. Nelly sniggered, though.

“So, who has deep dark secrets worse than a French father?” I asked.

Mary raised a shoulder.

“My father is somebody who can’t acknowledge me,” she said. “I think my mother is in service, but I was taken away from her.”

“Cruel,” I said.

“I’m an unwanted niece,” said Nelly, cheerfully. “And my Uncle and Aunt are living it up as my guardians but they can’t ruin me, because I have a solicitor who is a trustee as well as my uncle. But they don’t want it known that there’s red hair in the family or my cousins will never find husbands.”

“Courage; you will find someone who loves you for your hair, not despite it,” I said. Did I believe that? Once, I believed that love conquered all, and I used to babble the most awful nonsense at Jane, parroting Maman at times. I wanted to believe that love would make a family.  But perhaps there were people who loved each other truly.

“L’amour does not exist,” said Fanny-Anny, and once having heard it, I could not think of her any other way. “It is a social convention to make some appearance of being above brute beasts, when rutting like animals.”

She had come upon her parents or guardians in the same way I had come upon Him and Jane, no doubt. I, however, had spied upon Him despoiling servants and country girls, so it was less of a shock.

“Me, I think that one should be wary about those who say they love you,” I said. “People mistake lust for love.”

Frances-Ann flushed.

“My parents quarrel all the time now, whilst they try to get a son,” she said. “I’m seventh born and only Ellen-Ruth survived. She’s under Miss Edie.”

I disliked her a bit less, hearing her story.

“And I am also the child of someone,” said Celia. “But I am to have a come-out under the auspices of country cousins.”

“We are too young to think of such things,” said Nelly.

“Me, I will marry no-one but a royal prince,” I said. “Because when he does not give me happiness, he can buy me a better class of misery.

This was enough of a non sequitur that they shut up.