Chapter 3

"Lady Sandra Allington – whose stable will she find herself in? A passion for horses, or a passion for the stable hands?" Lily concluded, reading over her words, and feeling pleased with her latest scandal sheet.

She had met the maid, Ellen, again at Sloane's of Mayfair, and been furnished with further particulars of Lady Sandra's illicit activities. It seemed another woman was involved, too, and the maid had seen several well-known young men of the aristocracy entering the mews at night. Lily had written two pages on the matter and was now on her way to deliver the final copy to the editor for whom she wrote, and who paid her.

"He'll be very pleased with this," she told herself, as she left the house that morning.

But before meeting with her editor, Lily had another task to perform – her weekly visit to the prison where her father was being held. It was a grim penitentiary on the south side of the Thames at Lambeth, a repository for some of the worst criminals in London. Lily's father had been there almost a year, and the determination of his sentence had been vague. Lily knew there were those in the judiciary conspiring against her father – he had told her so – and that meant he would only be released when they were satisfied revenge had been served.

"I've come to see Connor Edge," Lily said, as she arrived at the gates of the prison, where two warders stood checking the details of those visiting.

Lily had brought her usual basket of cakes and other treats for her father, and by way of a bribe, she slipped a shilling into the warden's hand as he looked her up and down.

"Ah, yes Miss Edge. Your father's waiting for you, I believe," the warden – who was regularly on guard at the gate – said, ushering Lily through into the prison yard beyond.

Lambeth Gaol was a grim edifice, part medieval fortress. Its turrets and battlements had been augmented by a wing designed by Sir Christopher Wren, though without the architectural style of his work at Saint Paul's, and the prison yard was surrounded on three sides by neo-classical blocks, with steps rising to metal studded doors, the windows barred, and the ever-present sound of human misery emanating from within. Today was visiting day, and Lily joined the queue of wives and daughters waiting to be given entry to the visiting hall.

"What's in the basket?" one of the warders asked, peering suspiciously at Lily, who smiled.

Like the shilling on the gates, this, too, was a familiar ritual. Lily reached into her basket, taking out a small cake, covered in white icing and dried fruit. She gave it to the warden, fixing him with an expectant gaze.

"For my father, Connor Edge," she said, and the warden nodded.

"Come this way, Miss Edge," he replied, beckoning her past the queue to the front, where a pair of double doors stood open, leading to the visiting hall beyond.

The other women looked disgruntled, but Lily was used to being given preferential treatment. Her father had befriended the guards with promises of Lily's basket and the bribes she could give. In that, she was her father's daughter, and now she saw him – sitting at the far end of the visiting hall waiting to receive her. When he saw her, he rose to his feet and smiled.

"Father, you look well," Lily said, hurrying to embrace him.

"I feel well, Lily – I've heard they might release me," he said, and Lily let out a cry of delight.

"Oh, Father – that's wonderful news," she exclaimed, as they sat down opposite one another.

Lily set down her basket on the low wooden table, and her father delved beneath the red checkered cloth covering it, pulling out a currant bun and taking a large bite – these were his favorite.

"Yes, it seems I've got friends as well as enemies," he replied, through a mouthful of currants.

Lily glanced around her. The visiting hall was no bigger than a large dining room in a grand house, with a dozen or so tables interspersed at intervals. The other women had entered now, greeting the men with long embraces, only to be told to sit down by the wardens, who patrolled menacingly up and down the room.

"The sooner you're out of here, the better. I can't stand to see you here – the injustice of it all," she said.

Every time she came to the prison, Lily thought the same. Her father was surrounded by murderers and thieves, but he had done nothing wrong, and was confined here on trumped-up charges against him. There was no truth in any of it, and Lily was determined to see him freed.

"We must bide our time, but I hope to soon have further news. But tell me, how's your mother? Is she still raging against me?" he asked, smiling at Lily, who nodded.

"We argued about you again, Father. She's always drunk. I can smell it on her. And the more she drinks, the more emotional she gets. I can't have any pity for her," Lily said, and her father nodded.

"It was always the way, Lily. I'm sorry you have to put up with her. It won't be for much longer. Once I'm out of here…well, I'm sure she can be dealt with," he said, narrowing his eyes.

Lily knew her father intended to put her mother out of the house on his return, and in this, at least, she was torn. Her mother had been good to her, even as they had never seen eye to eye. She did not want to see her suffer, even as she knew the marriage was irreconcilable.

"Isn't it more important to see those who put you here brought to justice?" Lily said, and her father nodded.

"You speak the truth, Lily – a daughter after my own heart. Yes, those responsible – they'll pay dearly for what I've suffered. Not least the Duke of Lancaster," he snarled.

The name of the Duke of Lancaster – Ralph Oakley – had haunted Lily's childhood. Her father had often spoken of the man who had caused his downfall, though she really knew little more than that. He was a figure to be feared, and as a child, she had imagined him as the devil himself. In recent years, her father had often been away, and Lily had understood he was seeking the revenge he had always dreamed of. When this had failed, prison had followed, and her father had spoken of the duke as being responsible for his incarceration, conspiring with others against him.

"And how can we make them pay, Father?" she asked, wanting to help in any way she could.

"I've told you the story often enough – how I was driven from my job as the land agent by Ralph. He was hungry for power, and the death of his brother was the means of achieving it. I tried to hold him back, to reign in his ambitions, but he considered me a threat, and made up all manner of rumors about me. Even after I'd left Lancashire, he continued to persecute me. No, Lily…what's needed is the exposure of the truth," her father replied.

Lily smiled. She specialized in the exposure of the truth and taking her latest offering for the scandal pages from her basket, she handed it to her father. She was proud of her work – there was nothing untrue in what she had written, nor had she embellished the facts. The scandal was enough on its own, and as her father read through it, he smiled and nodded.

"How delicious," he said, running his tongue over his teeth.

"I can't believe how long she got away with it for. It's quite remarkable. She's been visiting the stables for months – and not always to see the same stable hand. It's wicked. But the maid saw it all, and I corroborated the story with one of the other stable hands. Lady Sandra had spurned him, and he was only too glad of an opportunity for revenge," Lily replied.

She spoke of her work in detached and professional terms. There was nothing underhand in her revelation of the facts – what she had written was true, and what happened as a result of it did not concern her. If Lady Sandra Allington found herself ostracized from society and reduced to a marriage of desperation, she had brought it entirely on herself. The actions were her own – no one had forced her hand, and she would be forced to live with the consequences, whatever they may be.

"My clever girl – you've got it all here, haven't you? I'm proud of you," Lily's father said, smiling at, as he handed back the article.

"But that's what we need for the Duke of Lancaster, too – couldn't we write something about his past, or discover something new?" Lily ventured.

She had been thinking about the matter for some time, and it would surely be the way for her father to have his revenge. He pondered for a moment, a smile playing across his lips.

"If it concerned the past, they'd know I was the source. I kept certain details to myself…but as for something new, yes…there's bound to be fresh scandals lurking in the family," her father replied.

Lily wanted to do something to help her father in his hope for revenge. She hated to see him imprisoned – there was no justice – and she would gladly have written anything about the Duke of Lancaster if she knew it would help her father's cause.

"There's got to be something, hasn't there? I could go there. I could go to Lancashire," Lily said, the thought suddenly occurring to her.

She and her mother were not getting on. They argued constantly, and whilst Lily would not see her mother destitute, she had no desire to continue as they were – always at one another's throats. Time apart would do them good, and if Lily could discover something about the Duke of Lancaster, so much the better, she thought to herself. Her father thought for a moment, as though weighing up the possibilities of her proposal.

"You'd have to be careful," he said, but Lily waved her hand dismissively.

She was used to being careful. Lily had established a network of contacts across the capital, always knowing one of them could betray her. She used false names and always ensured nothing she wrote could be traced back to her. It would not be difficult to establish herself in a new county – if only for a few months.

"I could go for the season. I could stay with my friend Alicia. Her parents have taken a house up there just recently. It's perfect. Oh, do say yes, Father. I want to help you. I want to see an end to this terrible injustice," Lily said, and her father nodded.

"Very well, you go with my blessing. But publish nothing until I see it. Do you understand me?" he said, and Lily nodded.

"I won't, I promise. But I know I can do it. I'll find something out about them – something new, something unconnected to the past. Once we expose it, the rest can follow. There'll be nothing they can do to stop it," Lily exclaimed, warming to the idea of revenge on her father's behalf.

When the time for the visit was ended, her father embraced her, telling her he loved her, and how proud he was to call her his daughter.

"I'll await your letters, Lily. Tell me everything you discover. But don't tell your mother where you're going. You know what she'd say," he said, and Lily nodded.

"We'll keep it between ourselves, Father. I'll write to you, and it won't be long before you're out of this dreadful place, I promise," Lily said, bidding her father goodbye as she took up the empty basket.

She followed the warden out of the visiting hall, hurrying across the prison yard towards the gate. Lily's mind was made up – she would go to Lancashire, and she would use all her ingenuity and skill to discover something scandalous about the Duke of Lancaster. In her experience, every grand family had its secrets, and whilst her father was reticent in revealing the past, Lily felt certain the present would hold just the same intrigues.

"Will we be seeing you next week, Miss Edge?" the warder on the gate asked her, and Lily shook his head.

"No, I won't be visiting for some time. I've got important business to attend to," she replied, and the warden raised his eyebrows.

"Is that so? What is it you do to keep a roof over your head? You've no brothers. It can't be easy for an unmarried woman," the warden said, and Lily smiled.

"Oh, it's easier than you'd think," she replied, and nodding to him, she left the prison, vowing only to return when her father was avenged.

* * *

"Yes…oh, yes…really? She didn't…how marvelous," the editor said, looking up at Lily with a smile on his face.

She smiled back, pleased to see the evident pleasure on his face as he read the details of Lady Sandra Allington's fall from grace.

"You'll print it then, Denzel?" she asked, and the editor nodded.

"I'll print it, and I'll pay for it, too. But…why the hurry?" he asked, folding the piece of paper, and placing it on the desk in front of him.

The printing press was in a shabby part of town, close to the river. It was a secretive operation, and Lily knew Denzel was also a forger, too. He ran copies on a scandal sheet, distributed across the city, and his reputation was such as to make the aristocracy quiver in their boots. Denzel Scruton cared nothing for the destruction of reputation, and he was only too glad to have a steady stream of gossip imparted to him by Lily, whose father had introduced her to him.

"I'm going to Lancashire for the season. I wanted to get this to you beforehand," she said, as Denzel held out her payment to her.

"Lancashire? The dukedom? It might prove fruitful," Denzel replied, smiling at Lily, who nodded.

"I'll happily send you copy of whatever I find. I thought it would make a change of scene. The aristocracy in London are on their guard. They know someone's writing about them, and their intent on discovering who it is. The nobility of Lancashire might be more…well, less on their guard," she said, smiling, as Denzel laughed.

"You're a devious creature, Miss Edge – but you've got your father's name, and I'd expect nothing less," Denzel replied, rising to his feet, as Lily placed the payment in her purse.

Denzel had given her ten pounds for the article, enough for the journey to Lancashire, and the establishment of herself there amidst its society. The thought of it pleased her – she would attend balls and soirees, ingratiate herself with the gentry, and discover their secrets.

"I'll send you something soon," Lily told the editor, as he showed her out.

"And I'll look forward to receiving it, Miss Edge. I'm sure your father will, too – anything to get him released," Denzel replied, and Lily nodded – she would do anything to see her father freed, and as made her way home, thoughts of revenge were foremost in her mind.