Princess of the 19th Century Department Store - Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The afternoon sky over Oxford Street had grown even gloomier, and the streets were slick with rain. Pedestrians hurried back and forth.

The rich aroma of coffee hung everywhere, mingling with the icy air of sleet.

After a moment’s thought, Daisy lowered the brim of her wide hat and, without hesitation, led Penny toward the newsstand across from the wine merchant.

The two sisters blended into the crowd, drawing no attention at all.

The old newsstand, named Mogallon Publications, had an extremely old-fashioned storefront. Mottled gilt lettering was carved into solid wood panels, and the display window even showed first editions of famous works from the previous century.

It spoke of the shop’s long history. Perhaps it had stood here since the eighteenth century, run by the same family for generations.

From outside, one could see that the already cramped interior was packed with books, magazines, stacks of various newspapers, and rows of bookcases.

A narrow counter sat just inside the door. Behind it sat an old man with a full beard. Beside his hand was a small tray with a half-finished cup of black tea, while he dozed with his eyes half shut.

Daisy brought Penny inside, and a thick smell of ink and damp paper rushed at them, immediately invading her nostrils. It was terribly unpleasant.

She raised her hand and knocked on the counter.

Thump, thump.

The proprietor slowly opened his eyes and lifted his head. Seeing customers, he sat up properly and straightened his bow tie.

“What would you like to buy? I’ve got the most complete selection of newspapers and magazines here.”

The upper half of Daisy’s face was hidden beneath her hat brim, and the lower half was wrapped in her scarf.

Penny was dressed the same way, revealing only the tips of her nose, her eyes, and a few strands of reddish-brown hair.

Daisy took out a bit of change. The Times was usually the cheapest.

“One copy of today’s The Times.”

The proprietor pulled out a newspaper and handed it to her. Daisy opened it on the spot and pretended to read for a moment before asking,

“Sir, I’d like to ask you something.”

The shopkeeper drank the remaining half cup of tea. He was long used to people coming in looking discreet and asking for information. After all, this was Oxford Street.

He asked lazily, “What do you want to know?”

“How has business been at Helconsa Spirits across the street lately?”

“Isn’t it written in the paper?”

The proprietor’s voice was rough and muffled.

“An entire shipload of goods belonging to a food importer was taken from the port by swindlers using forged bills of lading.

“The batch of Jamaican Rum Mr. Helconsa had entrusted the food merchant to import was on that ship as well.

“A full sixty crates of rum, goods worth eight hundred pounds, and now the whole lot is gone.

“Though the bank paid compensation first, the same Jamaican Rum has since appeared on the black market in the East End.

“The price is only one-tenth of what Helconsa sells it for.

“Some small grocery shops are buying the cheap goods from the black market and reselling them in secret.”

Daisy asked curiously, “Aren’t those people afraid of being investigated for selling illicit liquor?”

“Investigated?”

The newsstand proprietor seemed to have heard a joke. He pondered for a moment, then said,

“Scotland Yard won’t go looking for trouble. No policeman is going to stick his nose into a troublesome case like this.

“Besides, the bank manager who leaked the bills of lading to the fraudsters is dead, and they still haven’t caught the murderer. Who’s going to investigate smuggling?

“And who would even have the ability to get to the bottom of this case?”

After listening, Daisy could not help thinking to herself.

Perhaps other policemen could not, but there was one policeman who certainly could.

She thanked the newsstand proprietor, turned, and led Penny back out. They took a carriage again at Oxford Circus and rattled all the way toward the East End.

Penny was thoroughly bewildered by today’s journey. By the time they reached Whitechapel Road, it was already getting late.

At the paint shop the widow had recommended, Daisy bought a bucket of clear oil for wood and some wood wax.

Then they walked home. Half an hour passed, and as the six o’clock evening bells rang, they entered Clark Street.

At six in the evening, the sky gradually took on a hint of blue. It was nearly time for the workers to come off shift. Every household had opened its doors and windows and lit the gas lamps, and the alley was filled with the smoky smell of cooking and soup.

She and Penny had only taken two steps when they noticed scraps of paper underfoot.

They were flyers, drifting on the ground and soaked by the sleet, sticking in mottled patches to the paving stones.

A closer look showed they were not the flyers she had written.

On the scattered flyer before her, the first line read “Lobit Grocery.” The writing was barely legible.

Daisy laughed for no reason.

Penny could read too. Frowning, she asked outright, “Is he copying us?”

He certainly worked fast when it came to imitation.

Every item copied her sales model, whether it was discounts, price cuts, or buy-some-get-some-free deals.

Her shop sold three bars of soap for two pence, so Lobit sold four bars for two pence.

At this point, he was probably already selling at a loss and paying out of his own pocket, all just to draw attention.

Daisy stood there for a moment, studying the item prices on the flyer. Realizing that Mr. Lobit might be an extremely emotional man, she left, satisfied, and took Penny home.

Inside Nash Grocery, by evening there were no longer any customers coming in, and all the infants Mary had been looking after had been picked up.

In the kitchen, bread was baking and vegetable soup was simmering, carrying the scent of bacon.

It had to be said, the meals over the past few days had been quite good.

Mary was by the counter, sorting goods. These were the items the wholesaler had delivered free of charge today after receiving Daisy’s order.

They were familiar faces who often did business with them and knew exactly what sort of temper Lisa had. They would not go so far as to pass off inferior goods, lest they invite an argument.

Mary sorted very slowly. She did not know where every product belonged.

After Daisy and Penny came in, they took all the dried flowers out of their bags.

The moment Mary saw the dried flowers, she knew they had spent the afternoon at Covent Garden.

Daisy took over the work in Mary’s hands and began sorting the goods.

Mary stepped aside, somewhat displeased, and said,
“You’d only just gone out this morning when Lobit Grocery started handing out flyers all up and down the alley this afternoon. Copied us completely.

“Luckily, everything we needed to clear out sold by this afternoon.

“Two hundred and twenty-five pence in total. It’s all in the drawer.”

Daisy nodded and very politely thanked her for her hard work, which left Mary rather baffled.

“What’s so hard about watching the shop? You already had everything wrapped. All I had to do was tally the accounts.”

Mary watched as Daisy put the goods away.

The groceries had clearly been in a complete jumble, yet in Daisy’s hands, they were swiftly sorted by category. She recorded the quantities on paper, turned, and placed everything in its proper spot, so familiar with the arrangement of the shelves that it was practically second nature.

Was this really still her daughter?

Mary truly could not make sense of it, so she simply stopped trying and helped Daisy count the stock against the list.

There had not been much purchased today. Aside from replenishing inventory, the main items were new tea leaves and ingredients for cookies.

Mary took the ingredient list Daisy had prepared for the cookies and looked it over.

“All the raw ingredients for these cookies are here. I weighed the powders myself. Nothing’s short.”

Looking at the recipe, she saw that the ingredients were quite varied. It felt a bit like the sort of thing one might find in a French pastry shop in the West End.

“Is it troublesome to make?”

“Not troublesome. It’s a kind of crisp butter cookie. I heard the recipe at school. They’re called Diamond Cookies. Though, to be honest, I’ve never actually seen anyone make them before,” Daisy added by way of explanation.

Mary said, “Then why don’t I help you make them and we can try it out? How would you know how to use anything in the kitchen?

“Besides, I’ll have half as many children to look after next week, so I’ll have time.”

Daisy nodded, then asked what had happened.

Mary shook her head. “A textile mill nearby went under. A few people on Clark Street lost their jobs, so naturally they don’t need me to help watch their children anymore.

“I don’t know what’s going on lately. Textile mills and garment factories keep failing.”

“So that’s what happened.”

Mary sighed, then said, “I wonder whether the shirt factory over in Notting Hill will be affected.”

Mary’s parents had passed away long ago. She had no real relatives in London either, only a younger sister two years her junior, Anne.

Aunt Anne had married a pattern maker at a shirt factory in Notting Hill, and she herself worked in the factory as a typist. She had one son and one daughter, her eldest son two years younger than Daisy.

The two sisters were very close, but both were ordinary people who had to busy themselves with making a living every day. Although they both lived in London, it was rare for them to see each other even once a year.

It was not only Aunt Anne. Daisy’s aunt, Reese, was the same. The last time she had come by was because the old lady had taken a fall.

As Daisy listened, she opened the last two tins of tea and checked them.

Floral teas needed to be scented for a while before they would have fragrance, and most were scented with fresh flowers.

In her previous life, her favorite had been jasmine tea.

It used the first harvest of the year, fine white silver needle buds as its base, paired with fresh jasmine blossoms. Only after being scented with fresh flowers nine times were the tea leaves taken out.

Tea made this way showed only leaves in the water, not flowers, yet it was full of jasmine fragrance and did not affect the sweet aftertaste of the tea liquor.

But the room here was too small and the conditions limited. For ease of handling, she could only use already dried flowers to pair with the tea leaves, avoiding the need to dry the tea a second time.

The osmanthus she had bought today still needed to be heated once more and thoroughly dried before it could be placed into the tea tin.

Daisy first weighed the edible dried Damask rose blossoms, settled on the proper ratio, and wrapped the dried flowers in pieces of gauze.

Then she carefully tucked them into every corner of the tea tin, layering them several times to ensure all the tea leaves could absorb the floral scent.

After hearing the method, Mary immediately took the osmanthus back to the kitchen, heated a heavy cast-iron pan until it was dry, poured the osmanthus in, and roasted it until it was even drier.

Daisy was still the one who tied the dried osmanthus in gauze and tucked it into the tea tin.

She also sprinkled in a few ounces each of raisins and orange peel as embellishment.

After that, they began studying how to make Diamond Cookies.

Making Diamond Cookies was very simple. It did not even require whipping.

The only ingredients were butter, powdered sugar, low-gluten flour, egg yolks, and milk powder.

Daisy had chosen these ingredients only after combing through newspapers and investigating the circumstances of this era.

Wheat grown in northern Europe had a softer texture and less gluten, making it suitable for desserts.

And more than twenty years ago, around 1858, an American named Gail had built a milk powder factory.

Daisy was rather glad that the original novel was set at the end of the nineteenth century. Otherwise, there were many products she would not have been able to develop.

The process was also very simple. First, melt the butter over hot water, add sifted powdered sugar, and stir until smooth.

Then add egg yolks in the proper ratio in batches, followed by the milk powder and low-gluten flour, and mix evenly again.

Finally, shape the dough on the worktable, pinching it into a long strip, or using gauze to form it into a triangle.

At the end, roll it once through coarse sugar crystals, cut it into slices, arrange them on a tray, and place them in the oven beneath the coal stove.

At dinner, everyone tasted the Diamond Cookies.

Just smelling them made Penny’s mouth water. When she bit into one, the crisp, crumbly cookie immediately broke apart and melted in her mouth, leaving behind the toasted aroma of butter.

For Penny and the rest of the family, they had never eaten a cookie with this kind of texture before. It was wonderfully novel.

Compared with everyone else’s dazed enjoyment, Daisy was very restrained.

Before tasting one, she rinsed her mouth, then took a small bite.

After eating it, she immediately realized that the stove at home was not hot enough, so the baking time had run a little long.

The texture of the cookies still was not as crisp and crumbly as the best-selling product from her previous life.

However, under the current circumstances, making them this well was already quite good. They would have no problem utterly outclassing most wholesale cookies sold by grocery stores on the market.