The Journal of Dora Damage(40)

I put down my tea, stood up, and the gentlemen both stood up too, and I went over to the door on my own. No Goodchild appeared to open it for me. Behind me I heard Diprose gather himself together with a start, and he commanded me to wait. ‘I suppose I should take you back now,’ he said, and he took the door from me and ushered me through.

We found our own way to the stairs, and started to descend.

‘Well, that went sufficiently well, under the circumstances.’

‘Should I not have said all that about Peter and his rheumatism and the like?’ I said anxiously. ‘He knew it all, it seemed. I couldn’t have lied, could I? Not like I did to you at the beginning. Should I have? I knew I should’ve.’

‘Come, come, my dear. You have fooled no one. Sir Jocelyn has bestowed you with the blessing of his approval, and, malgré moi, you and I have no choice but to consent.’

I wish I had known then why the man had such an aversion to me. I did not know if I shamed him, or tempted him, or repulsed him, or all three at once, but for something about these feelings he chose to dislike me.

We hailed another cab and returned to the shop. He bolted the front and back doors, and gathered some manuscripts about him.

‘First, Boccaccio’s Decameron.’ He held it close to me, without proffering it, and I could smell the sourness of his breath. ‘It has some fine illustrations; c’est à dire, they are of the more exuberant variety.’ He was agitated, and his eyes refused to meet mine. ‘You must render their spirit on the binding, if not their detail.’ He sighed, and added, ‘You will be very busy. I will have the first books to you as soon as I manage to procure them from Amsterdam.’ It did not occur to my troubled mind to question the whereabouts of the books, whether they were enjoying the sights and sports Amsterdam had to offer or whether their purpose there was strictly business, innocent such that I was. What sudden reversals were to befall me.

‘And here. You will need this.’ He handed me a weighty implement, like a large bookbinder’s tool or stamp. I examined it carefully: it seemed to be a peculiar coat of arms. In the centre was a shield, divided into four by two straight overlaying chains: in the top left quadrant was a dagger; in the top right, a clarion; bottom left, a large buckle as from a belt; bottom right, a crowing rooster. The shield was supported by a rampant elephant on the left, at the foot of which was a cannon, with a pile of three balls waiting to be loaded, and on the right, a satyr, also rampant, leaning against a column around which curled a serpent. Above the shield a beacon burned from a castellated grate, with bunches of grapes descending from its lower basket. And across the middle snaked a ribbon with words on, in undulate, which I could not make out in reverse.

‘The Knightley coat of arms?’ I asked.

‘Les Sauvages Nobles,’ Diprose replied, but I did not understand. ‘The majority of books will need this on the rear cover, or occasionally on the front when the design so warrants. You shall receive instructions.’

‘And what about payment?’

‘Mrs Damage. Virtus post nummos, indeed!’

But the blackguard’s insult only emboldened me. ‘Mr Diprose. You know I have not yet the means to purchase materials appropriate to the task.’

‘I will send you a few things to help you out,’ he said with irritation. Then he creaked his torso forward at me and placed his hands upon his thighs, so that he could stare directly into my eyes. ‘Tell me, child, the definition of “discretion”.’

I swallowed. ‘Prudence,’ I blurted out. Then I thought harder. Discernere, to perceive. ‘The ability to discern.’ My mother, the governess, delighted in setting me word games like this. ‘Circumspection.’ Circumspecere, to look around on all sides. She would have pushed me harder still. I could hear her voice now, but I was grasping for my own words. ‘The adoption –’ I was getting into my stride, ‘– of behaviour appropriate to the situation.’ I paused. ‘Which errs on the side of caution,’ I added.

‘It will be required,’ he replied. ‘Payment will be handsome once discretion has been proven. You certainly have need to assure that je ferme ma bouche. How tidy, that we are now keeping each other’s secrets. We have un arrangement?’

I nodded. Satisfied, he reached for my hand, helped me to my feet, and placed the Boccaccio in my hands. I made to move towards the front of the shop.

‘No, Mrs Damage,’ said Mr Diprose. ‘You must leave now by the back entrance.’

I looked at him blankly.

‘Are you scared of ghosts, Mrs Damage?’