Page 20 of The Laudanum Ladies' Society

‘I have a suggestion that I would like to make,’ Miss Rosewood said. ‘We all know why we are here and what you hope to take home, but if anyone wishes to partake of shared enjoyment and take it here in company, we have the house to ourselves until four.’

There were a few murmurs of surprise, then Mrs Dowson sat forward. ‘What an intriguing idea!’

Gwen produced the small bottle, to which she had affixed a handwritten label bearing the inscription: ‘The Woman’s Friend. Enhanced disposition and peaceful slumber guaranteed.’

‘May I see that?’ Miss Salisbury asked. Gwen handed it over and watched, slightly apprehensively, as the woman held it up to the light between thumb and forefinger, uncorked and sniffed at it, then put the cork back in. Thanks to the label, it looked more like something one might buy from a shop and less homemade, but Miss Salisbury had an air that reminded Gwen of the teacher at her dame school, who had been rather too firm with the girls who were not neat with a needle and thread. She had the distinctfeeling that getting on the wrong side of Miss Salisbury could be unwise.

Miss Salisbury handed it back. Her face was so expressionless that Gwen was reminded of a marble statue. ‘I shall abstain today, however please don’t let my presence prevent anyone else consuming it. This is not the first time you have taken it, I believe.’

‘It’s my first time,’ Mrs Verne admitted. ‘Weren’t there more of you last month? Did you all try it?’

‘I don’t believe Mrs Browne took it,’ Mrs McAllister said.

‘She did,’ Mrs Dowson said. She paused, looked around the room as if checking she wasn’t going to be overheard, then leant forward on her chair. Gwen tensed, certain she was going to hear something significant.

‘What I heard from my Nancy, whose sister walks out with the Brownes’ footman, is that she took it on the nursemaid’s day off. Her husband discovered her sleeping while the children played with the coal scuttle, and when they ran to him, his best shirt became covered in sooty fingerprints.’

‘Well, that’s her own fault for picking a bad time,’ Mrs McAllister said crisply. ‘My husband attends lectures every Wednesday, so I simply waited until he was out. It was worth the price alone to be sleeping when he returned so I didn’t have to struggle through his snoring.’

There was general laughter, but Mrs Dowson looked troubled and Gwen, who had taken a seat in the corner, sensed the story was not done with.

‘What did Mr Browne say to his wife when he found her?’ she asked quietly.

Mrs Dowson twisted her hands around each other, and when she met Gwen’s eyes her own were filled with quiet despair. ‘He let his fists do the talking.’

The good-humoured atmosphere evaporated and a hush fell on the room. Mrs Verne muttered something beneath her breath and Mrs Dowson, apparently compelled to defend Mr Browne’s actions, spoke again.

‘He beat her, not the children. He’s not a bad man and a husband may chastise his wife as he sees fit.’

Gwen caught Miss Rosewood’s eye and the women shared a look of concern at the lack of Christian compassion demonstrated by the curate’s wife.

‘Was she badly hurt?’ Miss Rosewood asked. Her lips were pinched, which suggested to Gwen that Miss Rosewood was suffering the same torment of guilt that she herself was, at having been the instruments of the woman’s misfortune.

Mrs Dowson looked a little more at ease. ‘By Nancy’s reckoning, she was in such a state of torpor that she just lay there and accepted the beating and he didn’t bother for too long.’

‘How fortunate for her,’ said Miss Salisbury drily. ‘What a remarkable medicine you have chanced upon if it can render the consumer impervious to pain, Mrs Walters.’

Gwen looked away, wishing she were anywhere else. A cloud had descended on the room, almost as tangible as the smog.

‘Would anyone like to take some?’ Miss Rosewood asked.

‘Maybe we shouldn’t,’ Gwen replied. ‘What happened to Mrs Browne is bothering me. If we hadn’t given it to her, she would never have been in that position.’

Miss Salisbury lifted her chin imperiously. ‘If you hadn’t, then she might have drunk a bottle of gin, or her children’s teething syrup. The responsibility does not lie with you, Mrs Walters.’

‘We will not force anyone to take it,’ Jenny said.

‘I cannot speak for anyone else, but I didn’t come here to simply drink tea,’ Mrs McAllister said firmly. ‘What happened to Mrs Browne is unfortunate, but that is not your responsibility.She was foolish. I intend to enjoy myself and I am certain my husband will not chance upon me here!’

Mrs Verne and Mrs Dowson agreed. While the women placed a shilling each in a china dish, Gwen added three spoonsful of the tincture to each glass and filled them with water before passing them round. She’d taken on the role of assistant to Miss Rosewood’s role as hostess and was grateful that this gave her the opportunity to refuse her own glass. Unlike the richer women, she had no private means of getting home and wasn’t intending to risk walking or catching public transport under the influence of the tincture.

No one else noticed she didn’t join in– they were too busy giggling nervously at what they were doing. It wasn’t too long before the effects began to show themselves.

‘This is rather fun,’ breathed Mrs Verne through a yawn. ‘I do feel much more relaxed than I have done for a long time.’

Gwen looked at her. She had arrived with Mrs McAllister. She was young and pretty and did not look as if she had the need for a tonic, but who was to say what hidden secrets a person kept?

‘I feel invigorated. Shall we play some music?’ asked Mrs McAllister.