‘Not the first time,’ said Frankie, raising an eyebrow. ‘Always hoping it might be the last.’ Frankie tried to put on a brave face but the strain showed through. Thea was filled with guilt once again.
‘What can I ever do to make it up to you?’ she asked quietly.
Frankie folded her arms. ‘I told you I can make my own way. I don’t need you to save me, I just need you to let me do my job. And to buy all the stuff we need,’ she added, taking a little of the impact from the statement.
‘That, I can do,’ said Thea, at least happy to find something she could offer. ‘Tomorrow we will collect Speckle and go and buy seeds.’
‘Frankie, look at you!’ said Mr Gordon the seedsman in his east London accent. He whistled through his teeth and tucked his thumbs into his belt as he regarded her by the carriage. ‘Look at that getup. You look smarter than ever I must say.’
‘Thanks James,’ said Frankie a little quietly.
‘We called at Boyce’s on the way to Mile End,’ said Thea, emerging from the carriage herself. She wouldn’t usually let the staff go first but she hadn’t been certain Frankie’s breakfast was going to stay in her for much longer after juddering over the cobbles. She was grateful they had chosen Mr Gordon’s seed shop on Fenchurch Street, and not his extensive nursery four miles away in Mile End. ‘Now Frankie is working for me she must have the correct dress and commitment to do her job.’ She looked again at the outfit Frankie had chosen and wished she could get away with it. Just on the edge of acceptability. A simple skirt which allowed movement without unnecessary embellishment, a man’s shirt that she could almost get away with calling a shift and a tweed waistcoat with a pocket on each side. A dark scarf kept out the cold, and she had refused to part with her old peaked felt cap. She did look the business, and Thea had bought her two other outfits just like it.
‘Your Grace,’ said Mr Gordon, straightening. ‘My apologies, I didn’t see you there. And Dr Speckle,’ he said, nodding as the third figure descended the stairs.
‘We are here for your best seeds, Mr Gordon,’ said Thea. ‘And any roots you have had come in. Frankie here will be stepping up the cultivation at Hawkdean.’
‘Of course, Your Grace.’ Mr Gordon, the most eminent seedsman in London, snapped to attention and began flitting around his shop and outdoor selling area. He picked up pots and packets, discussing them with Thea, Frankie and Speckle. He loaded them into a pile by the counter, talking easily and from memory about their origins and what was known about their cultivation. Thea could see Frankie nodding along, memorising each one in turn. She squeezed the roots to check their firmness, held the seeds to the light to check viability and peered at the underside of terracotta pots to ensure the right level of root growth. Thea became aware of Speckle alongside her at the same time she realised she was staring.
‘You have made quite the appointment there, Your Grace,’ he said kindly. ‘She will fly given half the chance and if she isn’t limited by an old curmudgeon like Herbert or a poor apprentice like me.’
‘I hope so,’ said Thea as she watched. ‘She will have everything she needs and to cultivate as she wishes. Lord knows she can’t make the stove at Hawkdean much worse.’
‘I have no doubt she will excel,’ said Speckle. He checked his pocket watch.
Thea turned to him. ‘I am sorry if we keep you from your work, Dr Speckle,’ she said. ‘I had not thought. But do you not wish to buy anything for your own garden?’
Speckle smoothed his sleeve, a little nervously, she thought. ‘I don’t think so today, Your Grace,’ he said. ‘I have little room in the garden at Piccadilly and only myself to tend it. I must spend a little time building my own client base also, even though many have come with me.’
The shame rushed inside Thea, replacing the brief moment of optimism. ‘Of course,’ she said, staring at the floor in front of them. He didn’t know that it was her that Frankie had been seen kissing, but she felt guilty anyway. ‘I hope you are not in toomuch hardship following your split with Herbert, Doctor,’ she said. ‘What an unfortunate business.’
‘Oh no,’ Speckle looked almost gleeful. ‘You misunderstand my meaning, Your Grace. I see this as a chance to set up on my own and become independent of him. It was high time I made the break.’
Thea eyed him. ‘Where are you from, Dr Speckle,’ she asked. ‘I assume your parents had a little money to send you to medical school? Can they not help any longer?’
Speckle crossed his arms next to her, his eyes still trained on the intense discussions between Frankie and James Gordon. ‘I prefer to make my own way,’ he said. ‘Even though they have plenty.’ ‘My family are from… no.’ He checked himself. ‘My family live in St Vincent in the West Indies. I grew up there. As soon as I was of age I only took enough money to pay for my tuition and after that was determined to make my own way. I spent long enough out there – it is dirty money.’
Thea’s heart sank. ‘A plantation?’
Speckle nodded. ‘Three.’
A silence fell between them as they both contemplated the fact in their own way, but Thea was quietly pleased that her new friend shared her perspective on the colonies. ‘I commend you for making your own path, Dr Speckle,’ said Thea. ‘I have had a little chance to formulate my own opinions on the subject, and it is a bad business.’
He nodded once, still a little tense. ‘I have never understood how anyone can see it and not be opposed to it.’
‘But few do see, Dr Speckle,’ said Thea, trying not to portray how inadequate she felt. She thought of the conversations she had had with a captain who used to run slave ships, and his terrible accounts of disease and death. ‘And those who hear of it largely hear a sanitised version or choose to believe other thanthe truth. I hear murmurings of disquiet on the subject of the slaves, but not enough.’
‘Awareness is key,’ said Speckle firmly. ‘I plan a pamphlet on it, once I have completed the current crop.’ He eyed her and then feigned interest in an onion hoe dangling from a wooden shelf. ‘The voice of those with status and influence is always welcome in the cause.’
Thea poked the label on a succulent next to her. ‘Ah.’ She said, wondering how to begin to express this to someone with such purpose. ‘I would not hesitate given the chance. ‘But my husband…’ She didn’t really understand why George was so keen to keep Knatchbull and his ilk close, but she knew he would be furious if she spoke out against their business. It made her feel ridiculously inadequate.
‘I understand,’ said Speckle, with no judgement at all. It almost made her feel worse. She tried to change the subject.
‘How many pamphlets on the go now?’ she asked, hoping to lighten the mood.
‘Only about four,’ said Speckle, ‘but they are also on a pause while I search for clients.’
‘I will be sure to recommend you,’ said Thea. ‘George insists we use his old family doctor, but I have seen little use in him yet.’
