Elijah laid down his pen. “He extracts this poison from a flower?”
“The market at Covent Garden!” She jumped to her feet.
“There must be many poisonous flowers that have medicinal properties. Do you remember what that old man was growing?”
“He called them Dead Men’s Bells.” She scanned the article again. “But Withering discusses a flower called foxglove or digitalis purpurea. I can’t tell from that.”
But Elijah’s tutors hadn’t drilled him in Latin for naught. “Purpurea,” he said, “means purple. And the flowers were purple.”
“Let’s go,” Jemma cried.
But Elijah stayed behind his desk. “I don’t want you to become hopeful.”
“I am not overly hopeful. I am determined. I will not sit by and simply wait for you to die next to me. I will not!”
When they reached Covent Garden, the flower stalls were closed.
“The market is open Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday,” their footman said, after making inquiries.
“Stay with the carriage,” Elijah told him, walking after Jemma. She was moving through the stalls at top speed, heading for the place where the old man sold his flowers. He hadn’t had a proper stall; he’d simply put out a few buckets of flowers for sale.
He rounded a corner to find Jemma staring at the back wall where the man had sat. “There’s his stool,” Elijah said. “We’ll come back on Saturday and find him.”
“That’s three days.”
Elijah didn’t like the implication that he might not live three days, but he could hardly protest. Jemma turned in a slow circle and then set off, like an arrow free of its string.
He walked after her. The closed-up stalls of the market had a melancholy aspect, as if they had grown tired and shut their eyes for the night.
Finally he saw where Jemma was going. She had spied one stall with an occupant and was bending over the counter, talking to a little old lady wrapped in woolens.
“Do you know which gentleman I’m referring to?” he heard as he walked up.
“That’s not a gentleman!” the woman said with a gentle string of giggles. “That’s Stubbins. Ponder Stubbins.”
“Of course. Could you possibly tell me how to find Mr. Stubbins?”
She giggled again. “It does sound odd to hear a ‘Mister’ attached to Stubbins’s name.”
“Does he live close to the market?”
“Oh no,” she said. “You’ll have to wait for the market again. Just a few more days, that’s all. I’ll be here with daffodils, oh so many daffodils. And tulips. Do you like tulips?” she asked Elijah.
He bowed and said, “Good afternoon, ma’am. I do like tulips.” Though in reality he hadn’t the faintest idea what they were. Certainly his cook, Mrs. Tulip, had nothing flowery about her.
“I hope you don’t mind if I tell you something. I’m that old that I allow myself a leeway now and then! You look,” she said, leaning on the counter, “ezactly like my idea of a duke.” Giggles once again burst from her mouth. “Now isn’t that something for both of us to laugh about! As if a duke would be coming down to the flower market to find old Stubbins.”
He smiled at her and she actually turned a little pink. “My saints, but you’ve got a pretty face,” she added. “I always says to my husband that someday I’ll meet a duke. It’s our joke. The duke’ll take me away, see, give me a carriage with gold wheels to it, and make me his beautiful bride.”
“And what does your husband say to that?” Jemma asked.
“He says as how what he gives me is better than a gold wheel any day,” she said, giggling madly. “But here, even as you’re not a duke, you won’t want to find Stubbins until the market opens. He lives in a bad area. I don’t even go there unless I has to.”
“Where?” Jemma asked.
“Spitalfields. I can’t see the two of you there.”
“We were there less than a week ago,” Elijah said.
“Could you give us his direction? Does he live anywhere around Cacky Street?”
Her giggles stopped and she narrowed her eyes. “You’re missionary types, aren’t you? I know your sort. You’ll be trying to turn Stubbins into some sort of churchgoer and make him wear a hat and the rest of it.”
“That would make me a miracle worker, not a missionary,” Elijah pointed out.
“Well, at least you know that much.”
“We just want to find the doctor who uses Stubbins’s flowers for medicine,” Jemma said. “It’s terribly urgent, so could you please help us?”
“Stubbins lives in Wiggo Lane,” the woman said.
“You’ll find him there or behind the mews, most likely. That’s where he grows all his stuff. I think he even sleeps there sometimes.” She didn’t look like laughing now. “You’re from the Watch, aren’t you? You jist look like a duke, but you’re really the law.”
“No, not at all,” Jemma protested.
“You’re going to drag him off to the workhouse and it’ll be my fault. I wish I’d never told you.”
“I would never put Stubbins in the workhouse,” Elijah said mildly. “And I’ve nothing to do with the Watch. As it happens, I am a duke.”
“You never!”
Elijah gave her an extravagant bow. “The Duke of Beaumont, at your service, madam. I would take you away with me, but—”
“His gold wheels are just made of brass,” Jemma said, taking his arm.
“Oh my, and isn’t it just like a fairy tale,” the flower seller said. “The duke and duchess, and you loves each other, just like a tale, don’t you?”
Jemma felt her smile waver. “Yes, just like that.”
“And do ya have a carriage with gold wheels?”
“No. But I have a beautiful bride,” Elijah said promptly.
They found Wiggo Lane without a problem. It was one of the narrow channels that led off Cacky Street, not far from the glassworks. In the afternoon, Spitalfields looked utterly different than it had in the morning. People were sitting on stoops, and children were dashing everywhere, howling and shrieking with laughter. Laundry was hanging out to dry, nothwithstanding the fact that smoke billowed onto the clean cloth from cook fires in the street.
Finding Stubbins wasn’t as easy as finding the lane.
“He used to live here,” one man said, giving their footman an extremely unfriendly look. Most other people wouldn’t even answer, but just backed away or stared at the coach with grim dislike.
“This isn’t going to work,” Elijah said, watching James approach a man who looked as if he might knock the footman down before he gave out any information. He leaned forward and called, “We’ll go to Cow Cross, James!”
The door was unlocked, as usual, the hallway dim, and Knabby came toward them squinting. “It’s the duke again,” Elijah said, “with the duchess as well.”
Knabby was clearly surprised. “It’s a pleasure to have you again so soon! Everyone’s in the courtyard.” He turned around and started bustling away.