‘One of the Society’s main activities, aside from our endless campaigns for abolition, is sponsorship. Each year we raise enough money to assist a handful of fugitives from slavery in their flight, and their establishment in a new way of life. It is hard to live as a free man even in a state where slavery has been outlawed. It is safer in Boston than in Virginia; it is safer in Canada than Boston, yet it is safer still in Europe. The lucky ones find safe passage here, and here we can help them.
‘There is one slave in whom we have been particularly interested. Lady Grenville was visiting friends in Virginia last year, and was so struck by a certain young man that she raised a large enough sum, from teas and bazaars, to purchase him from his owner. Lady Grenville has since, sadly, died, and it has fallen to me to deal with the matter. We placed him as a porter for Messrs Farmer and Rogers in Regent-street, but they have unfortunately removed him, due to tardy habits. He deserves a second chance. I have been hoping to procure him a more stable position, in a more intimate, family business, to earn himself a living, and ultimately relieve his dependence on the Society.
‘The inevitable fact is, that he is a man. We were all rather startled, my dear, when we discovered that our little bookbinder’s is run by a woman, but . . .’
‘. . . you can only have half of what you desire.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Oh, I beg your pardon, madam. It just slipped out. It’s something my mother said. “You can only have half of what you desire”. Not meaning you, that is, but . . .’
‘I see. Yes.’ She seemed to weigh this for a while. ‘A peculiar sentiment. But yes, in this situation, one can only have half of what one desires.’ She nodded slowly. ‘I see you are not of the ordinary sort, so I imagine you will be capable of managing this peculiar servant.’
What could I possibly have said to her? Did I not have more than enough on my plate than have to mother a vagrant fugitive slave as well? What of the millions of poor souls on my doorstep in Lambeth who also deserved a spot of employment? And what if the work were to dry up? Jack and I could manage at present, but what of the day when my efficiency had increased so much that I could bind a book of twice the beauty in half the time? It would not have occurred to Lady Knightley to ask if this suited my own ambitions for the business, or whether trade was healthy enough to sustain another employee.
And then she swept away all my fears and appealed directly to my lowest nature, which, due to desperation, was very receptive. ‘The Society will provide you with a substantial subsidy. We do not expect you to cover the costs of training and settling from your own pocket. You will receive an initial sum of five pounds, followed by twenty-five shillings a month.’
Five pounds! I could not refuse. I knew I had little choice anyway, but the money swept away my doubts. A rudimentary plan was already forming in my head: the new clients to approach, the efficiency of a renewed triumvirate in the workshop. Besides, he might have been a man, but he was as desperate as I was, and would no doubt be grateful even to do women’s work: I could hand over to him all the folding and sewing.
‘You will keep a tally of any damage to property or goods, and we will cover this too.’ Oh my, I thought, and the doubts flooded in again. Had I agreed to take on a wild animal? ‘I said you were not of the ordinary sort. By doing this for me you are proving to be altogether rather remarkable.’ I did not feel it. I only felt foolish. But five pounds, Dora, and a guaranteed turnover of twenty-five shillings a month!
At some point she must have finished talking, for she rang a little bell which sat on a silver platter by her chaise, and looked at me with a fancy smile, and we waited in a small silence, before Buncie appeared at the door. I rose and made to leave.
‘And Mrs Damage.’
‘Yes, madam?’
‘Don’t mention this to Jossie. He will surely try to intervene. I cannot tolerate another lecture about slavery.’ She closed her mouth and looked away.
‘Oh.’ I paused, and heard Buncie huff behind me, so as only I, and not her mistress, could hear. I thought of the file he held on me. ‘But he . . . he . . . knows all about what happens in the workshop.’
‘Well, he doesn’t have to know this, does he?’ she snapped.
And so Buncie led me out into Berkeley-square again, and I ran home, intrigued by yet one more pact with another strange, luxurious person, suspended in her magical chamber, in a city full of secrets.
Chapter Nine
Miss Polly had a dolly who was sick, sick, sick, So she called for the doctor to come quick, quick, quick.
The doctor came with his bag and his hat, And he knocked at the door with a rat-a-tat-tat.