“Well, that’s usually a fifty pence trip, that is,” the driver said reluctantly. “But like I said, you don’t belong there, Miss and I can’t be taking you.”
“I’ll pay you a pound,” Caroline said crisply. “And if you still won’t take me, I’ll find someone who will.”
The driver frowned and shook his head.
“Now why would you want to go down there so bad you’d pay a whole pound, Miss? I just can’t understand it.”
“My husband is there,” Caroline said, hoping he’d be more willing to take her to the mysterious Graves Street if he knew there was a man she knew at the location.
The driver’s eyebrows shot up.
“Oh he is, is he? And I reckon you want to give him what for when you catch him?”
“That’s none of your business,” Caroline said, frowning.
“Well, whereabouts is he on Graves Street—at least I have to know that,” he protested.
“Mother Griffith’s,” Caroline told him.
The driver’s eyebrows went even higher.
“Well, he’s got nerve, going there—I’ll give him that.” He frowned at her. “Are you sure you want to go after him? Gentlemen will play, you know, Miss. It’s just their nature. A forgiving wife—”
“Is one thing I am not,” Caroline snapped. “Will you take me or should I find someone else? There’s a pound on the line here,” she added, hoping to entice him. “A whole…entire…pound.” Opening her small purse, she pulled out one of the folded bills and waved it at him like a flag.
The driver’s eyes widened and then he shrugged and got down to open the door of the carriage.
“Well, it’s no matter to me if you want to chase your husband down to the worst parts of town. I s’pose I’d as soon take you as someone else. Come on, then.”
“Thank you.” Nodding, Caroline took his hand and allowed him to help her into the round, mechanical carriage. The driver paused a moment to wind the huge key at the back—which must have taken a great deal of strength, given all the effortful grunting she heard—and then he climbed back into the box at the front of the vehicle.
The cab started with a rattle and a bang that made Caroline jump and then they were on their way—going the exact opposite direction she should have been headed to get home.
Chapter Seventeen
Graves Street was a dark, dirty area very unlike the rows of prim gabled houses where the other Caroline lived or the various fancy mansions she had recently visited. There was trash in the gutters and houses were crammed together, shoulder to shoulder, leaning against each other like drunken soldiers without even a side yard in between. The smog was very thick—the gas streetlamps seemed to float in glowing bubbles of luminescence at intervals along the street.
“Well, here we are.” The driver pulled up at the curb in front of a building that looked much like all the others, as far as Caroline could see. He came around to open the carriage door for her and she discovered another difference between this part of town and the nicer areas she had been staying in—the smell.
“Ugh!” She put a hand to her nose involuntarily. The air was redolent with a miasma of rotten garbage, human waste, and animal offal. It was almost overpowering.
“Yuh, that’s the smell of Graves Street, all right,” the driver said, nodding at her. “Not exactly a dozen roses, is it, Miss?”
“It’s…a little hard to get used to,” Caroline admitted with a gasp. Still, if this was where Richard had gone, then she intended to follow him. She wasn’t going to let the foul odor of this place put her off.
“Miss, are you sure you want to get out here?” the driver asked, frowning. “It ain’t safe for a proper young lady, so it ain’t! Come on now, let me take you back home. I won’t even charge you extra. You can rake your husband over the coals much safer when he gets back to you, so you can!”
Caroline lifted her chin determinedly.
“Thank you for your kind offer, but no. I am here and I am staying.”
She pushed the crinkly paper bill into the driver’s hand and then allowed him, still protesting, to help her safely down to the curb. She did this mainly because they appeared to have parked right beside a large pile of horse manure and she didn’t want to fall into it in the ungainly dress she was wearing. But once she was safely on the sidewalk, she gave him a cool nod and made her way directly to the building he had indicated was Mother Griffith’s.
It was a sort of brownstone, she saw when she got up to it. There was a doorknob but when she attempted to turn it, she found it locked.
Caroline frowned. Well, so much for sneaking in and looking around without anyone noticing her. Clearly she would have to take the more direct approach. There was also a simple brass knocker in the middle of the plain black door. Caroline used it to rap smartly on the door twice and then she waited.
After what seemed like a long, long time, the door opened a crack and the same boy she’d seen earlier—the one who had come to get Richard—poked his head out. His eyes widened when he saw her.
“Who are you, Miss and what do you want?” he asked bluntly. “You must be in the wrong place—we don’t serve ladies here.”
“I want to see Doctor Richard Vii,” Caroline said sharply. “And don’t deny he’s here—I know he is.”
The boy’s eyes got even wider and he slammed the door in her face.
For a moment Caroline just stood there, shocked. Then she grabbed the brass knocker and banged it against the door again, producing a loud, angry rapping sound. If they thought they could keep her out, they had another think coming!
After a long moment, the door opened again but this time it was a woman who greeted her. She had long, sleek blonde hair which was caught up into a fashionable updo and pinned in place with a tiny hat at the crown of her head. A jaunty peacock plume decorated the hat and bounced when the woman moved.
But it wasn’t her headwear that drew the eye—it was the rest of her costume. The girl had on a tight scarlet, satin bustier which pushed up her full breasts until they were practically spilling out the top. It led down to a short black and scarlet skirt—very short, since it ended at the tops of her thighs and exposed her long, shapely legs completely. To go with the abbreviated dress, she had on thigh-high fishnet hose which were held up with golden garters and stylish black boots with golden laces. In her hand, she carried a long black riding crop which she slapped idly against her thigh as she addressed Caroline.
“Well, well, what have we here?” she purred, her cat-green eyes wide with interest. “What might someone like you be doing someplace like this?”
“I’m here for Richard,” Caroline repeated, but she was beginning to get a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Dressed as she was, there was no way this woman could be anything but a prostitute—which meant that Mother Griffith’s was a bordello or brothel of some kind. Richard was cheating on her—on the other Caroline, anyway.
I thought he was better than that, whispered a little voice in her head. I thought Kindred never cheated on their wives!
After everything he’d told her about Lord Harkens being an “unfaithful husband” it seemed horribly hypocritical.
But of course, the other Caroline had been keeping him at a distance for two years—the entire length of their marriage. She supposed she didn’t blame him for seeking comfort in the arms of another woman, considering that his own wife absolutely refused to let him near her. Still, she couldn’t help feeling hurt and disappointed.
That didn’t mean she was ready to go, though.
“I’m here for Richard,” she repeated. “I know he’s here so let me in—I want to see him!”
This seemed to amuse the girl.
“Very well then, come in,” she said, flinging the door wide. “But don’t expect to see him anytime soon. He’s with Emmeline and likely to stay a while.”
Feeling sick, Caroline stepped over the threshold and into what seemed to be another world.
The room
she found herself in was very large—and every inch of it seemed to be some shade of deep red. The walls were crimson flocked in gold and black patterns and the floors were covered in thick, oriental carpets woven in scarlet and gold threads. There were two large semi-circular couches, upholstered in ruby velvet and between them was a large round ottoman covered in black leather with red tassels hanging all around its edge. On it, lounged two other women dressed much like the girl who had let Caroline in. They looked at her in surprise as she entered the room.
“Have a seat.” The girl with blonde hair motioned with her riding crop to one of the couches. “I’ll send Richard out when he’s finished with Emmeline.” She raised her eyebrows. “I dare say he’ll be right surprised to see you, so he will.”
Not knowing what else to do, Caroline sat gingerly on the edge of one of the couches and tried to ignore the way the two girls lounging on the black leather ottoman were gawking at her. One had brown hair and the other’s hair was so black it looked dyed.
“Ain’t she quality, don’t you think?” the brunette said to the other, gesturing at Caroline as though she was some kind of strange, exotic artwork instead of an actual person who could hear what she was saying.
“Think so, yes.” The girl with black hair nodded. “Dunno what she’s doin’ here though.”
“Maybe she’s here to take lessons from Rose,” the first girl speculated. “I’ve heard she teaches the quality women how to use a crop and a cane—so they can give their husbands what they want-like.”
“She never!” the black-haired girl exclaimed. “Why, if she does that, what use would men have for whores like us, who are willin’ to cane the living daylights out of ‘em?”
“She don’t do it all the time, does she now?” the brunette said impatiently. “It’s not every proper young Miss as is willing to spank her husband just because he has a taste for a bit of the birch.”
Caroline felt even worse. Was this some kind of BDSM brothel? Is this what Richard wanted—to be whipped or spanked? She thought she could probably handle the kinky stuff if given a chance. But the idea of the big Kindred doing it with something else turned her stomach.
She literally could not have felt worse if she really was Richard’s wife and had caught him cheating. The feeling of betrayal was lodged like a cold stone in her gut and she didn’t know if she wanted to scream or cry or just storm out.
“So you think she’s here for a lesson, then?” the black-haired girl said, staring at Caroline speculatively. “Wants to know how to give it to her husband proper-like?”
“I expect so.” The brunette nodded. “Though how Rose is s’posed to teach her anything when she’s got her nose curled up like she stepped in a pile of dog shit is more than I can tell.”
“I can hear you, you know!” Caroline burst out, glaring at them. “It’s extremely rude of you to sit there talking about me like I’m deaf or something!”
The girls stared at her in astonishment, their mouths perfect Os of surprise. It was as though they’d just heard a cat or a statue start talking.
“Well?” Caroline exclaimed. “Aren’t you going to apologize?”
“Begging your pardon, Miss.” The brunette ducked her head. “But we didn’t never expect the likes of you to talk to the likes of us.”
“Why not?” Caroline snapped. “And how could I help talking to you when you’re sitting there speculating about me right to my face?”
“We’re whores, we are, and it’s clear you’re quality,” the black-haired girl said, as though that explained everything.
“And we’re sorry if we offended you, Miss. We didn’t mean nothing by it,” the brunette added. “We was just wonderin’ why a lady like you would be here.”
“I’m here to see Dr. Richard Vii,” Caroline said stiffly. “Not that It’s any of your business.”
“Oh, Dr. Richard? He’s prime, he is!” the black-haired girl exclaimed. “All the girls here at Mother Griffith’s loves him, so we do.”
Caroline felt sick all over again.
“So…does that mean you see him often?”
“Oh yes!” Both girls were nodding their heads eagerly. “All the time!”
Caroline wondered how long this had been going on. Had he slept with every whore in the place? Is that why they all knew him so well? It seemed entirely too likely.
Suddenly, she couldn’t take it anymore. Jumping off the couch, she ran to the door and dragged it open, letting in a gust of foul-smelling air. Choking and gasping, she went out into the night, ignoring the cries of the girls behind her. She couldn’t stand it—couldn’t stay here one minute longer knowing what Richard was probably doing with one of the whores in a back room somewhere in that awful place!
I have to get out of here, she thought as she ran blindly down the street. I never should have come in the first place. I should have gone to the park, like I planned. I wonder if it’s too late to get there and back before dawn?
But maybe she wouldn’t have to go back—maybe the window would be open and waiting for her. And if it was, Caroline intended to go straight through it without a backwards glance. Let Richard do as he pleased—she washed her hands of him and his cheating ways!
If that was true, though, why did her heart ache at the thought of never seeing him again? Why did the very idea of separating from the big Kindred feel like a part of her was being torn out?
Forget him! she told herself angrily. He’s no good for you—he’s cheating on you right this minute and you know it! So get over your stupid feelings and move on! Find a carriage to take you to the park and get out of here now!
Only, there didn’t seem to be any carriages for hire—not up and down the stinking street she was standing on, anyway. Where was she, exactly, Caroline wondered uneasily as she looked around herself. Her feet had taken her deeper into the ugly, blighted part of the city without her knowing it. Now she was far from the row of gas lamps that lighted Graves Street with no clear idea of how to get back.
Had she thought the area around Mother Griffith’s was bad? The grimy alleyway she found herself in now was ten times worse. There was refuse everywhere, spilling out of doorways as though people just opened the door and threw their trash out on the street without even bothering to look for a trashcan. If they even had trashcans here—it occurred to Caroline that she hadn’t seen a waste receptacle of any kind on the street since finding herself in this world. But surely the residents here could find someplace other than their own front walkway to throw their litter?
Unsure of which way to go, she walked towards a dimly glowing light she saw at the end of the alley. When she was halfway there, she saw a woman who looked to be in her mid to late forties. She was dressed in a stained corset and had one side of her dirty skirts tucked up to show her legs.
Caroline was about to go ask her directions when a drunk man staggered up to the woman.
“How much, then?” he slurred.
“A pound—no more, no less,” the woman said, but she sounded more hopeful than firm.
The drunk burst out laughing, the spray of saliva from his loose lips showing silver in the dim light.
“A whole pound note for Poxie Annie? Don’t think so, love. Two bits is all you’ll get from me and count yourself lucky at that!”
“’Twas you and men like you as gave me the pox in the first place!” the woman spat. “And me only twenty-five!”
Twenty-five? Caroline wondered if she could possibly be telling the truth. She looked forty-five if she was a day—her face was hard and haggard and her eyes were bitter.
“Two bits,” the man repeated. “Take it or leave it, love. Doesn’t make no never mind to me.”
The woman looked ready to shout at him again but then a sullen kind of despair crept into her hardened features.
“I’ll take it,” she muttered. “Just hurry up about it.”
Then she spread her legs and leaned back against the crumbling brick wall behind her. The drunk already had his
trousers unfastened. He pushed between her thighs and rammed himself inside her brutally, thrusting as hard as he could.
The woman he’d called “Poxie Annie” simply gritted her teeth and bore the rough treatment in silence. Caroline could tell from the expression on her face that she hated the man and what he was doing to her but she let it happen anyway—probably it was the only way she could make a living.
Oh, poor thing! What a horrible way to live—if you can even call it that!
Feeling sick and shaken by the awful sight, Caroline turned away to run back down the other side of the alley—only to bump into a broad chest.
“Well, well—and what’s to do here?” a gravelly voice asked and then someone had her by the shoulders in a tight grip.
“Let me go! Who are you?” Caroline exclaimed. She couldn’t see much of the man’s face because of the shadows in the dark alley but she did make out a broken nose and a curled lip—and the fact that he was absolutely huge.
He must be six foot six at least, she thought, staring up at him. The only other man she’d met who was that tall was Richard, but Kindred were always tall and muscular. This man, however, didn’t have the look of a Kindred about him. He just seemed big and rough and he smelled almost as bad as the garbage surrounding them in the alley.
“Let me go,” she said, trying not to let her voice quaver. “I…I don’t belong here.”
“Oh, I can see that, lassie.” The man grinned at her, revealing stained and broken teeth. “But where do you belong, then?”
“I’m not a…not a prostitute if that’s what you think,” Caroline said quickly, fearful lest he should think she was offering herself like poor Poxie Annie. “I just got lost.”
“Well then, isn’t it lucky I found you just when I was lookin’ for some fun,” he snarled. “Tell me, little lassie—are you clean?”
“C-clean?” Caroline was tugging back against his hands as hard as she could but he held her in place easily—his grip was like iron and there was no getting loose.
“Yeah, clean—have you ever had a man in you?” he demanded, shaking her once until her teeth clicked together.
Trapped in Time Page 16
