Lord Day and Lady Night

59. Fishy Clothing

Beside her, Freddy cleared his throat. "Your friend seems to be—"

Just then, he was cut off as Patrick stuck his head out from between two racks of clothes. "Are you really serious, Mr Farthingale? Just three pence for a perfectly good pair of tweed trousers?"

"Well, um...some people are put off by the smell, Sir."

"Smell?" Patrick held the tweed up to his nose. "I find it quite pleasant, actually."

"And there might be some stains..."

Patrick waved his hand. "Oh, I don't mind. As long as the quality is good. Thank you, Mr Farthingale! I shall definitely be visiting this store again in the future."

And he dived between the shelves again.

Freddy turned back towards Amy, who was studiously studying a bonnet she had no intention of purchasing. Not that this was because she wanted to avoid Freddy's gaze. Oh no, certainly not!

"Ehem...Miss Amy, as I was saying, your friend seems to be rather enthusiastic."

"'e does, doesn't 'e?" Amy glanced up at Patrick, who was just vanishing behind a curtain. Moments later, they could hear the sounds of a peer of the realm struggling with tweed. "I knew dis was da right place ta take 'im."

"Um, yes, certainly. I'm always glad for new customers. It's just..." He leaned over towards her, and behind his hand, whispered, "He does know that I got those clothes off rotting corpses I fished out of the Thames, doesn't he?"

Amy snapped her fingers. "Darn, me bloody memory! I knew dere was somethin' I'd forgotten ta tell 'im."

"Miss Amy!"

"And, since I've so conveniently forgotten," she added, leaning towards the shopkeeper with an enchanting smile that normally cost two shillings sixpence, "why don't we let it be and neglect ta mention dat little fact ta 'im?"

"Miss Amy! I am an honourable business owner—"

"—who cleans out da pockets of dead people and sells deir stuff."

Freddy looked wounded. "Everybody has to make a living!"

"Except rotting corpses?"

The little man gave her an indignant look. "We can't just not tell him about where the clothes come from!"

"Oh, I will." She patted his shoulder. "Don't worry."

"You will?" His eyes brightened.

"Aye." A grin spread over her face. "In about three weeks, after 'e's bin wearing dem for a while. Da look on 'is face will be...interesting."

***

"These clothes smell really...interesting," Lord Patrick said, sniffing at the sleeve of his new—well, not quite new—tweed jacket.

"Oh, aye," Amy, who for some reason was walking on the other side of the street, agreed. "Very interesting."

"So..." He glanced down at his new, amazingly comfortable, tweed suit. "What do you have in store for me next?"

At first, when she had dragged him off to get new clothes, he had felt some apprehension. But after what she'd just done...

He felt warmth in his heart. She was genuinely trying to help him. Deep down, she was a thoroughly good woman.

Of course she was also trying to turn him into an insane, violent, police-assaulting gangster. But that was part of her trying to help, wasn't it?

Hopefully.