Chapter Twenty

The Angel’s Wing Inn must have been named by someone in a fit of optimistic religious fervour, because it became immediately apparent to Pip and Allegra that no heavenly being would have dared to flick a feather over its threshold.

In fact, whoever coined the expression “den of thieves” might well have had just such an establishment in mind.

As Pip pushed the heavy door inward, a blast of noise and odour hit them with an almost physical force and Allegra had to close her lips tightly to stop herself from gasping at the shock.

Pip shouldered his way through the assorted patrons, dragging his wife behind him very closely. As soon as she dared, she looked quickly around and was relieved to see that their progress was causing little attention.

A few men leered at her over their grimy glasses, but as this seemed to be the local equivalent of “Evening, Ma’am”, she ignored them, looking away and holding Pip’s hand tightly as he led her past the busy bar and towards the darker recesses of the room.

The tallow lamps that burned smokily from sconces on the old stone walls gave a very poor light indeed, but even so Allegra was relieved when Pip shoved her rather ungently onto a hard settle fronted by a small table. Their seat was almost in one corner and the others like it were occupied by a variety of people who had their own reasons for wanting the anonymity of semi-darkness.

A buxom woman, whose heavy application of powder and paint did not quite conceal her years, bent suggestively over Pip.

“Nah, ducks...whatcher havin’, then?” She glanced incuriously at Allegra, then smirked at Pip. “Oi means in the way of drinks, yer know. O’course, if’n this one don’t do yer right, I could get a bit of a time to meself...for a fine young buck like you, luv. If yer gets me meanin’?” She waggled her shoulders with a gap-toothed grin.

The fact that her ample bosom was now wallowing dangerously near Pip’s nose and about to escape its rather insecure confinement was not lost on either Pip or Allegra.

“I think we’ll just have a couple of your...er...that is, we’ll have two Blue Ruins, please...for the moment, anyway....” Pip brazenly stayed in character by swatting the woman’s ample behind as she flounced away with a coarse guffaw.

“Good grief, Pip, behave yourself,” hissed Allegra. She should have been shocked, but found a very improper laugh welling up in her throat.

Pip appeared somewhat dazed by the encounter. “Well, she certainly knows how to advertise her wares,” he said, “I really should get out more often...”

A dig in the ribs from a sharp elbow halted these ruminations. “There they are.” Allegra nodded casually toward a table that was also dimly lit and occupied by Madame and the Rajah.

He had abandoned his elegant royal robes for the garb of a lowly labourer. Somehow, with his slouched hat and ordinary jacket, she was much more easily able to see Charles Falworth and wondered how she’d missed the likeness for so long.

“We see what we expect to see, don’t we?” Pip breathed into her ear as if reading her thoughts. “A fancy costume can disguise a person in more ways than one, I think.”

Allegra was spared answering this comment by the return of Pip’s would-be seductress bearing two small glasses, which had clearly never seen any kind of water or soap, and containing something that she supposed was the infamous Blue Ruin. It wasn’t blue, but she was ready to believe that the Ruin part was accurate.

“There yer are, then, ducks...I’ll ‘ave a couple o’ groats off yer for ‘em.”

Pip flipped coins onto her tray. “Buy yourself one too, sweetheart...maybe next time I come in I’ll take you up on your offer...”

The woman giggled saucily and tucked the money into the deepest recesses of her cleavage. “Well, I declare...a gennelmun. Any time, ducks, just ask fer Lucy...” She leaned down next to Pip, nearly taking his eye out with her enormous bosom.

“What beautiful lace,” exclaimed Allegra, touching the trim on Lucy’s blouse. “It’s so delicate.”

Lucy immediately straightened and turned to her with a smile. “Ah, you’re a knowing one, then, ain’t ya, ducks? Yeah, I used ter know this sailor wot brung stuff ‘ome with ‘im fer me...”

She grinned, showing an empty gap where one of her front teeth no longer resided. “‘E gave me some of this fancy lace and I got my friend to ‘elp me stitch it on. ‘S French, y’know.” With an approving nod at Allegra, she swished her hips towards Pip and turned to leave.

Reaching for her glass, Allegra tried to keep her attention focused on the couple they had followed. Madame and Falworth had their heads together and were talking quietly, although many hand gestures accompanied their conversation.

Despairing of hearing anything useful, one of those unexpected lulls in a roomful of noise occurred, just as Madame was speaking.

“...ze paper. Zis we must have, eez absolutely necessary.” Her voice slithered icily through the gloom to the wooden settle that Pip and Allegra shared, and they found themselves gripping hands as they casually looked down at the table.

The hoarse voice answered. “Oh I can get it...just takes a bit of planning, you know. But how much will...” A blast of laughter from the bar obscured the conversation.

Pip exhaled slowly and leaned back a little against the hard wood. “This is quite promising, I suppose?” He looked hopefully at his wife.

“At least we’ve heard something, and her voice still sends nasty shivers down my spine. They’re definitely up to no good, I’d stake anything on that.” Allegra was not about to mention that Pip was still holding her hand and that it felt very nice indeed, thank you. “Suppose we give it a few more minutes?” She reached for her drink only to have Pip nudge her sharply.

“For Heaven’s sake—don’t actually touch that. You’ll be sick for a week. It’s the worst type of gin there is.” He stared frowningly at her until he saw her pretend to drink and place the glass down on the table.

Irritated, Allegra glared right back at him. “I’m not that stupid...but we have to look like we’re having fun, don’t we? We want to be inconspicuous, and from what I can see, not drinking would be conspicuous.”

Opening his mouth to respond, Pip suddenly froze as he heard Falworth’s voice quite clearly.

“Allegra’s no use...stupid bitch...always was. I’ll find another way. But I may need some ready cash...”

Madame’s response was mumbled but apparently supportive.

“Good...time is coming closer...” Much of this speech was obscured, even though Pip and Allegra were scarcely breathing in their eagerness to eavesdrop.

“They’ll be just where we want them...unlimited amounts...plenty for both our needs...”

At the end of this soliloquy, Falworth stood and dropped a light kiss on Madame’s hand. “Your servant,” he said, loud enough for anyone to hear.

Pip and Allegra shrank back into the shadows of their recess as he made his way out of the tavern. Madame rose after a few moments and dropped a few coins on the table. She looked around as she tucked her reticule into the depths of her skirt, and Allegra shrank even more into the darkness, moving towards Pip’s shoulder lest she be recognised.

Madame’s thin lip curled as she glanced at the other patrons. She raised her glass and tossed back the dregs. “A votre santé, cochons...” she muttered. “Le temps est venu...”

And then she was gone, leaving behind a cloud of perfume heavy enough to cut through the other odours in the tavern like a hot knife through butter.

The two conspirators remained rooted to their seats, as if afraid to move, until Pip finally heaved a great sigh of relief.

“I don’t think I like this spying business—I’m not cut out for it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“Me neither,” agreed Allegra wholeheartedly. “But I think it was worthwhile just to make a connection between Falworth and Madame. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

She was only now beginning to appreciate the enormity of what they had discovered. “I wonder what the paper is that they need? And why is it worth money? And, come to think of it, I am not a useless...er...well...”

Pip leaned toward her and ran a caressing finger down her cheek and hiding her face with his arm just as a noisy group of men passed their table. Under cover of the flurry he whispered, “We shouldn’t risk staying here much longer—these questions will have to wait. Our best bet now is to get ourselves home and review the situation.”

Unclasping Allegra’s hand somewhat regretfully, he rose from his seat, but unfortunately, just as he did, a large bruiser from nearby pushed his way into the aisle, knocking down a table, two chairs, several drinks, and a noisy doxy.

This was the catalyst that the tavern had apparently been waiting for. Within seconds, the room erupted into a series of fights and the air was filled with shouts, screams and the particularly unpleasant thud of knuckles against flesh. Glass shattered, and Allegra ducked her head, just managing to avoid a flying tray.

“Oh Lord...I was afraid of this,” Pip shouted over the melee. “Take my hand and don’t let go.”

Holding her tightly, he started making his way to the door, forcing a passage between the combatants, and dodging the wild fists of anyone who might have wanted to include him in the fight.

Lowering her head and moving forward at a crawl, Allegra hung on to her husband’s hand with a grip of iron. She focused on the heels of his grimy boots and did her best to avoid butting his back with her forehead whenever he stopped short to try and find another way. She hadn’t realised how big the tavern was since it was taking them what seemed like hours to cross what had only felt like a few steps earlier in the evening.

Shouts and yells surrounded the couple as they bent lower to get out of the way of the assortment of airborne objects. Glasses were fair game, but Allegra was surprised to see a pipe smash onto the flagstones, with the tobacco still smouldering.

Pip’s fingers tightened spasmodically on her hand and Allegra felt rather than heard him grunt. He staggered in front of her and dropped hard to his knees. Her heart stopped with a thud.

“Pip...Pip, what is it...?” She called from behind him, trying to push her way to his side and look at his face.

“Hit...damned head again...”

He swayed precariously as she grabbed his jacket and fell to the floor beside him to steady him. Blood was trickling down the side of his face and Allegra guessed that he’d stopped something sharp close to where he’d injured his head in the field outside Wandle.

Desperately she tore his cravat away from his neck, wadding it roughly and holding it to his head, all the while trying to protect him and push him out of the battlefield.

“Come on, luv...this is no place fer the likes o’ you two...” It was a stout yell, and a pair of gnarled hands appeared under Pip’s armpits. “Up wi’ you, my lad...you got to get out o’ this hell, right quick. It’s only gonna git worse...” Amazingly, Lucy, the barmaid, laughed as she hauled Pip onto his feet and tugged one of his arms around her neck.

Allegra stared into the face of her rescuer, seeing a decided twinkle in Lucy’s eyes. “Come on, mort...” urged Lucy. “Grab his other arm and head for the door and don’t let no-one get in yer way—kick ‘em where it hurts... yer knows where that is, don’t yer, ducks?”

Nodding dumbly, she did as she was bid, offering up a devout prayer that she wouldn’t be obliged to kick anyone “where it hurts”.

With Lucy’s strong arm taking most of his weight, Pip managed to stagger towards the door while Allegra kept her fingers crossed that transportation would be within their reach. She felt, rather than saw, the door swing open and with a final shout they all tumbled outside on the pavement, gasping like fish on a riverbank.

“Yer got someone t’git yer, then, ‘ave yer?” Lucy looked up and down the street.

“Er... I...yes...we...er...there should be a carriage...” Breathlessly Allegra held onto Pip, who leaned silently against her, holding his cravat to his skull.

Lucy tilted her head like a bird and listened. “This may be it, then, dearies...” And sure enough, rapid hoof beats neared the tavern as Vivian drove as fast as he could towards them through the narrow lane.

Closing her eyes briefly and offering thanks to Heaven, Allegra tightened her grip on Pip, and with Lucy and Vivian alternately pushing and pulling, they got the almost unconscious man into the carriage. She followed him in and then turned to Lucy, who was curiously looking at their conveyance.

“Thank you, Lucy. Thank you for both of us.” Allegra struggled for words to express her feelings.

“Cor, luv, don’t fink nuffink abaht it. T’aint many a night ‘ere when we don’t gets into some kind o’dust up. But yer needs ter take care o’that man o’ yourn.”

“Well, yes, I—umm...” Allegra stuttered, not quite sure what or how much to say.

“Nah look, luv. What the two o’yer come down ‘ere fer, that’s yer own business. But this ain’t the sort of place yer used to, fer sure, an’ if’n I was you, I’d stay snuggled up right and tight wiv this luverly feller ‘ere and not go ‘angin’ round this part o’town.” A finger wagged in Allegra’s direction as she received this piece of wisdom.

“Ma’am—we need to be off post haste,” hissed Vivian from the box.

“Just one minute...”

Allegra put her hands to her neck and undid the ribbon that she had tied there earlier in the evening. From the centre hung a rather tasteless fleur de lis pendant, mostly with paste stones, but here and there were a few real, if small, pearls.

“Lucy—here, take this, please. Let it be my way of saying thank-you for what you’ve done...and perhaps a small remembrance of this evening.” She held it out with a little smile towards the woman who was staring at it with wide eyes.

“Cor blimey...really?” Her hands neared the necklace.

“Yes really...” smiled Allegra. “You may well have saved his life. I know I couldn’t have gotten us both out of there alone, so we are in your debt. Please take this with my deepest thanks.”

“Aw, I will then, though it’s a bit fancy fer the likes o’me. Be off wi’ you now.” She shut the carriage door with a firm bang.

Vivian immediately whipped up the fidgety horses and Allegra pulled Pip more comfortably onto her shoulder.

“Soon be home now,” she murmured soothingly.

“What was that about snuggling?” muttered Pip from behind closed eyes.

Allegra suppressed a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh or a sob. “Well, if your wits are about you enough to eavesdrop on my conversation with Lucy, then I suppose your injury is not severe. But I shall be happier to see you ‘snuggling’ under a doctor’s care.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” came the answer. “I’m getting used to getting bashed on the head whenever you and I spend an evening alone together. Can’t let a doctor ruin things, now, can we?”

“Hush. Your injury has disordered your senses,” reproved Allegra in her sternest voice, while her hands tenderly rearranged the cravat against his wound.

“Well, maybe so, but just remind me to see if there’s something we can do for Lucy—her kindness mustn’t go unrewarded and that necklace was...forgive me...quite awful,” Pip sighed and leaned more heavily against his wife.

“I think ‘quite awful’ could well describe this whole evening.” Allegra muttered to herself as she cradled her injured husband in her arms. “We put on horrid clothes, went to the worst tavern in London, eavesdropped on two really bad people, and tried to find out the nature of their evil deeds. Whereupon we got ourselves into the middle of a terrible fight, you were seriously thumped on your head and had to be rescued by a woman whose heart and courage are pretty much concealed by her overflowing assets. It would seem that “awful” just about sums it up. And to think that I was convinced that this was a good idea. I do believe I am now quite insane.”

And on that cheerful note, Allegra sighed and held tightly onto her absurdly chuckling husband as the carriage took them home to Bridgeford House.