A Matter Of Delicacy

The Debt

     The Broken Coin was just the sort of establishment I had in mind when hunting down these all-seeing eyes of the city. Lennox had led me through alley after alley, down slippery steps and cobbled paths and under creaky wooden platforms by the river. We wormed our way round the bend in the river away from Vauxhall and into the slums, the houses getting more and more cramped and the people more and more unsavoury. It was already midnight by the time I got there, and I hoped to dear God that Sarah and some guards were waiting up with Princess Caroline.
     'After you,' Lennox gestured towards a cracked wooden door in the wall, overhung by heavy rooms above, with only one broken window to inside. I could hear grumblings and the clinking of glass and the strong smell of bad ale drifted on the wind. Ducking in, I was immediately shocked by how dark it was, with thick wooden beams supporting the ceiling, tall, gruff looking men blocking the light and only a few pig-fat candles mashed onto the bar and into sconces on the wall.
     Lennox led me past the crowd and towards the side walls, where smaller groups huddled over benches and talked in low voices, shooting dirty looks at anyone who came near. Here, he stopped and pointed towards the booth furthest away from us, 'you want that one.'
     The figure hunched over the table at the end looked like she could kill you with no amount of difficulty and very little remorse. She was small, perhaps would only come up to my shoulder, but solid. Her arms, though wrinkled and spotted with age, were strong and her hands worked at picking apart a mass of string quickly and deftly. Her face, when she looked up at us, showed thickset eyebrows and a hard jawline, a tiny mouth pinched with constant irritation.
     'People call her Mother Quinn,' Lennox muttered to me. 'She's a hard one, don't expect nothing different.'
     I patted his arm and walked towards her. She stared me down as I approached, her hands still flitting around the string like birds over a slice of bread. I felt the air get cooler around her, as if even the heat of the candles and the mass of other people avoided her, leaving her alone and surveying the field.
     'Miss Katherine Wentworth,' her voice was sharp, like a rip on the knuckles. 'Seems I was right about you.'
     How did she know my name? I scanned my memories for an image of her, had I spoken to her once? Had I given her money on the street? Was she a servant at Montagu House? Nothing, I had never met this woman before.
     'Right?'
     She sighed. 'When a high-ranking woman in Princess Caroline's court, who hasn't left the place for more than a day in over three years, goes missing from society for a week and comes back in a fast carriage accompanied by a slip of a girl, I get a-thinking. When this girl, tragic backstory an' all borrows a dress from a scullery maid and goes runnin' round London, I get suspicious. And when that girl turns up in the Broken Coin followed by ol' Lennox there I get proved right.'
     'The servants?'
     'Oh they love a good chatter, 'specially those ones up at Montagu House. Gifted, they've been, with a mistress as bat-crazy as the Princess.'
     I sank into the chair opposite her, my heart in my stomach. My God, I'd let standards slip.
     'What do you want, Miss Wentworth?'
     I steadied myself. I couldn't falter, couldn't let this situation get the better of me. 'I need information about two men.'
     'Lovers?' Mother Quinn smiled to herself, her cracked teeth glittering in the candle-light.
     'Potential enemies. They orchestrated an attack on the Princess a couple of weeks ago but I lost them afterwards.'
     'I see. Interesting that all the straight-laced folk find their way down here when things go awry. You spend all your time putting the likes of us behind bars then come running our way when you can't do nothin'. Funny, I suppose.' Her fingers slowed in their work and she glanced up, 'you're lacking in descriptive detail here Miss Wentworth.'
     'They're perhaps late-twenties or early-thirties. One is tall, over six-foot, with thin blond hair and a square jaw. Calls himself Paulette, but doesn't sound French, has more of a country twang to his voice. Doesn't speak much. The other is the leader. Shorter, maybe five-foot ten. Dark hair. His name is Beresford, though I don't know that for sure, I'm suspecting they've either picked up code names just for this job or have been given them by someone else.'
     Mother Quinn nodded and went back to her work, 'congratulations, Miss Wentworth. You've just described about half o' London.'
     I clenched my fists under the table, 'Beresford spoke well, he's been educated, but doesn't seem like a noble.'
     'And they orchestrated this attack how?'
     'They found Lennox when he was performing on the Southbank and by St Pauls. They were looking for acrobats and people with useful skills.'
     'Ah, one o' those,' her mouth twisted in disgust. 'The type that hire us lot to do their dirty work and leave us to the dogs afterwards. Don't you worry Miss Wentworth, I'll find the bastards.'
     My heart started to beat faster, 'yes? I can pay you, I've got enough - '
     'Oh don't talk to me about that,' the mouth twisted again. 'I don't take cash payments.'
     'You don't? What... what do you take?'
     Her hands finally stilled, leaving the string a pile of twisted fabric spilling over the sides. 'Well now, you see it's difficult. Usually, I strike a bargain; I scratch your back and you scratch mine. I might charge you my next laundry load, or a free spot to sell my pieces outside the coffee houses, or access to the kitchens of the best society house. But in your case, Miss Wentworth, in your partic'lar position, it's a bit more interesting.'
     I frowned, 'interesting how?'
     Mother Quinn looked up at me, her black eyes sparking like gunpowder about to be sparked, 'let's say, Miss Wentworth, that you owe me a favour.'
     'A favour?'
     They flashed at me again, 'exactly. Anytime, anywhere, no matter what it is, you owe me a favour.'
     Deep down in my chest, my heart started beating faster again. I felt a thrumming in my ears, a pulsing at my throat, a voice in my head telling me to go, go.
     'Now come on, Miss Wentworth. In return for finding those two men, a little favour is surely worth it.'
     Those eyes just flashed at me, flashed and flashed.
     'Do we have a deal?'