by Unknown
wine to bed.
* * * *
Lily woke after midnight, unsure whether she had been disturbed
by a noise. Sophie snored softly with the effects of the mulled wine,
her hair gleaming faintly in the moonlight streaming through the
window. Tenderly, Lily covered her lover's exposed breasts with the
bedclothes, keeping her warm.
Don't want you catching your death now, do we?
Lawrence and Rosina. She had been most remiss and selfish,
allowing herself to get all caught up and carried away with Sophie and
life at Freddie Bathurst's club. Ashamed, she realized that she had not
even glanced at the scrap of paper Rosina had given her. Gingerly,
she eased herself out of the vast, high bed, tucking the covers around
Sophie's slumbering form. The room was cold, the little fire reduced
to glowing embers in the grate. Quietly, she opened a wardrobe door
and located her bag. The scrap of paper rustled as she retrieved it and
tiptoed over to the window to read the address by the light of the
moon.
7 Verulam Street
Near Gray's Inn
That's not too far away.
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Lily replaced the note in her bag and returned to bed, already
shivering quite violently with the cold. Simply to assuage her
curiosity, she would go to Verulam Street later in the day and hoped
that there might be a note from Lawrence. Perhaps they had mislaid
her address in Bloomsbury or were simply as busy as she was. It had
only been a fortnight, after all. She cuddled up to Sophie and fell
sound asleep. Outside, a little farther down Gower Street, a hansom
cab moved off slowly, its horses snorting and stamping in the freezing
night air.
* * * *
It wasn't easy to convince Sophie that a post-prandial walk was just
the thing on Christmas afternoon and Lily slipped out of the house on
Gower Street with the buxom blonde's protestations echoing down the
stairwell.
"You take care, darling! I don't want to have to send a police
constable to rescue you."
Lily smiled as she walked as briskly as she could along the icy
pavement, elegant in a dark green wool costume and a new short fur
cape, a surprise gift from Charlie Dunn-Keith. Sophie's gift, a pretty
coral bracelet, was safe on her wrist, tucked beneath her glove, and
Lily felt very glad to be alive. How things had changed in such a
short span of time. It seemed that the gloom of Akenhead Hall had
only served to act as a grim foil to her glittering new existence. And
yet it could all change again. Luck was a finite commodity.
Eventually, after a pleasant walk through the quiet streets,
pleasantly devoid of the usual traffic, Lily arrived at Verulam Street.
It was a narrow cul-de-sac opposite Gray's Inn and, suddenly nervous,
she lingered by the high, redbrick wall which surrounded the tree-
lined walks and tall solicitors' chambers of the Inn.
Come on, my girl! You've got this far.
Resolutely, Lily walked down Verulam Street, scanning each
narrow doorway for number seven. At the end of one side of the
street, the side cast into shade by the bright December sun, was a
derelict-looking shop. Lily could just make out the faded number
seven and an ancient sign that proclaimed, in letters almost worn away
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with age, that the shop's tenant had once been a "fine tailor of
distinction". Glancing about her to see if anyone was watching, Lily
tried the door handle. It seemed to be bolted from within.
So, how does Rosina collect her love letters?
Baffled, Lily peered through the filthy glass, rubbing a small circle
in the dirt with one leather gloved hand. Indistinct, menacing shapes
loomed in the dim shop interior, including several draped tailor's
dummies that looked like ragged headless men.
There must be another entrance.
Lily stepped back to look at the building. The end of the street was
blocked by a brick wall and it seemed she'd have to scale it to gain
access to the rear of the building. Surely Rosina didn't go climbing
walls to fetch her secret notes.
Certainly not when laced up as tightly as Lawrence prefers...
Lily smiled and then jumped as she realized that something had
moved inside the old tailor's shop. There was someone there,
shuffling around between the macabre dummies and the abandoned
display cases. Horrified, she watched as a hunched figure approached
the door and slid back the bolts. Wizened fingers in grubby half-
mittens appeared around the edge of the door and a high, crackling
voice said, "You're early, ain't you?"
Lily thought rapidly. The old woman appeared to be half blind.
Perhaps she thought it was Rosina. Could she possibly pretend to be
the young girl? The crone continued to speak in her whining, grating
voice.
"Don't you know it's Christmas, dearie? Got something nice for old
Ma have you?"
Lily had nothing to offer the old woman.
"Cat got your tongue?"
Lily swallowed. "Any letters for me today, ma?"
The old woman cocked her head to one side like a bird, listening
intently and Lily noted that her eyes were rheumy.
"You don't sound quite yourself today, my dear. Letters? Now, let
me see."
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The skeletal fingers delved into an apron pocket and came up with
an envelope. Lily reached out to take it but the old woman whisked it
away, cackling like a witch.
"Where's my Christmas present? Old Ma wants a plum pudding for
her supper tonight."
Lily delved into her purse and retrieved a shilling. She pressed it
into the old woman's hand and the crone immediately relinquished the
envelope.
"That's better! You're so quiet today, my dear. I hope you're not
sickening for something. Other than that young man of yours, of
course."
The hag's voice degenerated into another hoarse laugh and she
screeched like a parrot.
"Merry Christmas, ma." Lily tried to make her voice sound as light
and gentle as Rosina's, then she quickly walked away, almost breaking
into a run as she reached the end of Verulam Street. She paused in the
shelter of the Gray's Inn wall and looked at the envelope. What had
she done? It was Rosina's letter, not hers. Now, Rosina would think
Lawrence hadn't written.
Foolish girl, Lily Warnock!
But she hadn't been expecting the old woman. The crone had quite
unnerved her and thrown her off course.
"Oh, dear."
Lily spoke the words out loud. As she leaned against the wall,
trying to decide what to do, two young men walked past, deep in
conversation. As they passed, Lily overheard "She may have been a
whore, Victor, but she was one of God's creatures too, damn it! Think
of the fuss there would be if she had been a "good" girl. Every police
force in the city'd be out looking for the monster who did it to her."
"Let it be, Tom. Lizzie knew the risks, I'm sure. I'm sorry, Tom,
but you've got to let it be."
"I
wish I'd had her now. You know that? I wish I'd damn well had
her!"
Lily shivered. A cold draft seemed to play up and down her spine
as she watched the two young men turn the corner onto the
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Clerkenwell Road. Rosina should have told her about the old woman.
She looked at the envelope, addressed in Lawrence's elegant hand.
Miss Rosina James
c/o 7 Verulam Street
Holborn
Middlesex
Should she open it? No, that would be an invasion of her friends'
privacy. Guiltily, she tucked the letter inside her bag, feeling
extremely silly. Well, there was nothing else for it. She would have
to pay a call to Sekforde Street. She'd think of some pretence to see
Rosina and, if not slip her Lawrence's letter, at least assure her that it
was safe. Sighing softly with relief, she followed in the young men's
footsteps, turning right onto the Clerkenwell Road.
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CHAPTER XV
A ROUND WITH JOE JAMES
"Merry Christmas Rosina! Surprise!"
Lily crossed the sitting room at 37 Sekforde Street and thrust a
large posy of chrysanthemums into Rosina's arms. The young girl
looked startled and, to Lily's dismay, blushed a deep shade of pink.
Rosina's parents stood before the blazing fire and smiled uncertainly
at the strange young woman in the expensive fur cape who had just
bestowed a floral tribute upon their daughter.
"Why, thank you. I don't know what to say!"
Lily smiled at Mr. and Mrs. James and noted, with satisfaction, the
familiar up and down appraisal from the former, a pleasant looking,
broad-chested man in his early fifties. Lily placed one gloved finger
to her lips.
"Don't say a word, Miss James. Remember, it's I who should be
thanking you."
Turning to angle the silhouette of her figure to best advantage in the
sunlit sitting room, Lily continued.
"Mr. and Mrs. James, you have a lovely daughter, a true Good
Samaritan. I was crossing Clerkenwell Green just the other day when
I tripped and turned my ankle. Dear Rosina here came to my aid and
we had such a nice chat. I simply had to repay her kindness. Oh dear,
I do hope I haven't disturbed your festivities."
Lily glanced at the remains of a roast goose and bit her bottom lip
voluptuously. The effect wasn't lost upon Mr. Joseph James who
stepped forward and nudged Rosina on the elbow.
"Very good of you, miss. Very good of you indeed! Say thank you
to the young lady, Rosie."
Rosina blushed as deeply as her name. She couldn't bear to look at
Lily and mumbled into the flowers.
"Thank you so much, miss. But really it was nothing."
Lily extended one ankle from beneath her costume and wiggled it
jauntily.
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"Nothing? Why, I'm sure it would have been badly sprained if you
hadn't helped me bind it with a handkerchief."
Rather naughtily, she raised her petticoat a couple of inches to
reveal her trim ankle, then made a coy fuss of concealing it as if
suddenly remembering that there was a gentleman present.
"Would you care to have a Yuletide glass of sherry with us, Miss,
um?"
"It's Miss Smythe. Miss Lydia Smythe. Well, perhaps a tiny glass.
That would be lovely."
It seemed inevitable to adopt yet another alias. Lily smiled gaily at
Joseph James. He smiled back, a definite twinkle in his bright blue
eyes and busied himself with the sherry decanter. Mrs. James
gestured to the sofa and invited Lily to sit down and rest her tender
ankle. Rosina hovered nearby, still clutching the armful of
chrysanthemums, her uncertain face peeping over the mass of bronze
colored blooms.
"I'll just put these in water."
"Good girl, Rosie. Mustn't let Miss Smythe's kind gift wilt in the
heat from the fire."
Lily noted that Joseph James treated Rosina like a little girl and she
felt certain that his sensual tastes would run to spanking if given an
opportunity. Suddenly, she felt quite aroused. The warmth of the
room after the cold outside air, plus the initial sip of dark sweet sherry
combined to make her feel slightly giddy. She giggled.
"Oh dear! I'm afraid I'm not used to strong drink! But it's lovely all
the same."
Mrs. James looked at Lily with approval.
"Well, I rarely touch a drop myself, Miss Smythe, but one does
make an exception at this time of year."
Joseph James cleared his throat and Lily imagined that the ruddy-
cheeked man was no stranger to a few pints of porter. She thought of
the liberal glasses of wine and champagne she tended to dispatch of an
evening and almost blushed. Rosina was fumbling with a vase and
soon the chrysanthemums graced the festive table. For a few minutes
they made polite conversation, Mr. James leaning casually against the
77
mantelpiece in such a way that Lily could admire, from her sitting
position, the sturdy lines of his solid torso and the definite bulge in his
trouser front. Once, their eyes met meaningfully and she immediately
cast her gaze down into her sherry glass in faux modesty. The clock
on the mantel struck four and Lily stood up.
"I must go. Mama and Papa will be missing me. Thank you so
much for your hospitality."
Rosina jumped up. "I'll see you down to the street, Miss Smythe."
Lily smiled at her. "That would be lovely."
Joseph James stepped forward.
"No, Rosie, you help your mother clear the table. I'll walk Miss
Smythe down. She may want a cab."
Rosina stood transfixed, obviously accustomed to doing exactly
what she was told. Her cheeks began to burn in confusion. Quickly,
Lily swept across the room, clasped the young girl in an expansive
embrace and whispered "I have your letter!" into Rosina's bouncing
ringlets. There was no time to say anything else. Mr. James helped
her on with her cape and she bade his lady wife and daughter a very
happy new year to come as she was escorted out of the rooms.
"Well now, my dear. Shall I fetch you a cab or would you like me
to accompany you home?"
Lily looked up at Joseph and smiled coquettishly. He had tucked
her arm through his in a paternal gesture and she snuggled up to him,
enjoying the feel of his powerful arms through the layers of their
clothing. His huge hand strayed to her waist then, suddenly, he
pushed her up against the wall of the hallway and kissed her full and
hard on the lips.
"Merry Christmas, Miss Smythe. Is there anything else you'd like
old Saint Nicholas to bring you?"
Lily placed her hands on Joseph's broad chest. They looked tiny.
The man had the physique of a bull, average height but very heavy
with solid muscle. She sighed as if the devil was tempting her.
"Why, Mr. James..."
Joseph's hands appraised her slender waist and she shivered, her
nipples springing to attention with his masterful handling.
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"Call me Uncle Joe," murmured Joseph, pressing his thickly
whiskered mou
th against the tender place behind Lily's left ear. She
shuddered, helpless against the potent strength of his masculinity.
"Uncle Joe. Oh..."
Her silk drawers were saturated with arousal. Firmly, Joseph took
her arm, tucking it more tightly than before through his and they
walked out into the street. Soon they found a cab and he instructed
the driver to take them to the King's Arms.
"A genteel sort of public house, Miss Lydia. Nothing sordid for my
special girl."
Lily briefly wondered what Rosina would think of her father's
sudden absence then abandoned herself to "Uncle Joe's" passionate
kisses. As she had suspected, he wanted her to act like an ingénue, a
naive little girl, and she squealed in a blend of delight and dismay as
his big hands massaged the outline of her breasts beneath the fur cape.
"Here we are. Now, you wait quietly, like a good girl, while I
arrange our room."
"Yes, Uncle Joe."
They were shown to a room at the back of the King's Arms, with
faded floral wallpaper and a combed ceiling. When the landlord had
left them, Joseph picked Lily up and threw her onto the bed, which
squeaked noisily with well-worn springs.
"Uncle Joe!"
"Let's be having you, you little hussy!"
He was already stripping off his clothes with a thirst that Lily had
rarely witnessed. She removed her gloves and began to unfasten the
bodice of her costume. She had undone a mere two buttons when
Joseph strode over to the bed, wearing only his long johns. His cock
pushed against the fly of his underpants, straining to be released. Lily
looked up at him. For an older man, he was in magnificent condition,
each muscle on his chest defined beneath a thick layer of graying hair.
His biceps were incredible and, seeing Lily's gaze fall upon them, he
flexed them like the strong man at the circus.
"You're so strong, Uncle Joe!"
"Ha! All the better to tan your naughty bare bottom, Miss Lydia!"
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Lily squealed. "Oh no, Uncle Joe! Please don't spank my naughty
bare bottom!"
Joseph jumped onto the bed with a crash and Lily prayed that the
bed would not go through the floor. The springs squeaked wildly.
They wrestled for a few moments then he easily manhandled her
