by E M Jones
Charlie pushed open the heavyset door, the glimmer of candlelight through the tessellated glass panes providing a promise of a night’s pleasure. Her usually confident pace was stalled immediately by a battalion of sweaty male backs. Alcohol, smoke and indulgence replaced the oxygen in the tavern, and new patrons were drugged at the door. Charlie appeared in triplicate as she squeezed between the bodies swaying and wallowing in the suspension of certainty.
Lizzie soon lost Ted and Charlie, and each time she thought she had found them, it was merely their reflection, or a reflection of their reflection.
“Drink, darling?”
Lizzie managed to swerve the lower half of her body away from the hand proffered towards her posterior along with the offer of a beverage. She looked up without changing her position and the hand’s owner beamed at her. His face was like a drooping rose crinkled with a lack of air and water.
“No, love? You’ll regret it.”
He made a further ill-judged manoeuvre towards Lizzie’s posterior, but her relative sobriety was beyond the speed of his response. She gave an apologetic smile and made towards another wall of reflected faces. One of the morphed mouths, convex and rose-like, exploded into laughter—“All these beautiful women!”—and swiped towards another posterior passing within his reach.
Once Lizzie had sorted the next group of people into the real and the reflected, she squeezed past a real dress and slipped accidently into one of the mirrored booths. She looked up to find herself eye to eye with Georgie, who held court at the centre of the group. Georgie’s eyes were full of wine and reflected admiration. The men sat in the curved booth all stared towards her, their faces repeated indefinitely in the mirrors around her, as if all the men in London were there, engrossed by her. Her voluptuous width created a natural stage within the booth for her, the other inhabitants her audience. Her hair had started to fall around her face, where the affectation of casual preparation hid a fading hairline and pocked skin. Her jewelled ears set fireworks of light around the booth from time to time, as she swayed her head playfully in the retelling of a story of her days at court. According to Charlie, Georgie had spent one day at court with a useless footman who had promised much and delivered nothing, having used Georgie for pleasure. Georgie’s current retelling placed her far closer to the inner circle of the royal family.
She inhaled deeply, more jewels on her chest creating sparkles of light as a preamble to her final revelation. Georgie looked up, directly at Lizzie, and gave a small smile of recognition before continuing with her tale.
“Word spread throughout the court that there was a new, bewitching woman in attendance. I knew that night that I would be revealing myself to all at court. As I walked into the ballroom, I felt like running away—me, known at court!” Georgie paused and sipped her wine, smiling at her audience. “I couldn’t lift my head; I stared at the floor, my heart beating in my chest.” She patted her conveniently exposed chest. “I was trying not to fall away; I felt so small and faint.” She swayed her head, setting another firework of light around the room.
“I was led around the room by my gentleman, looking at the floor. I just wanted to get around and go home without falling down. Then a strong hand held mine from the right. I stopped and looked up, right into the prince’s eyes.” Georgie looked into Lizzie’s eyes, and Lizzie felt the power of her attention—she really was one of the best. “He kissed my hand and said, ‘You are the beauty that has stolen the court’s heart.’ And he took me and led me around the ballroom. That night, I was the prince’s companion.”
Georgie beamed at her audience, making eye contact with each admirer, irrespective of their ability to focus on her. Lizzie watched in awe as Georgie’s tired body was transformed by the tale she wove, the young beauty at court embalming the old Georgie.
“And then I stole her heart, and she left her prince and ran away!”
The booth exploded into laughter as Charlie leapt into the circle to join the group. Georgie looked at Charlie, caught between fury and amusement. Lizzie watched the tension hold between the two women. Georgie laughed, and the tension was cut. The booth re-joined them in repeated and reproduced laughter.
“Can I get you a drink, Georgie, my darling?” Charlie bowed dramatically and held out her hand across the booth.
Georgie gave her a suspicious glance, and Charlie held her gaze. “That would be delightful, Charlie, but we can’t keep our companions long.”
“Absolutely not. Why don’t we get some wine for the table?”
There were roars of agreement as Georgie was led away from the group by a gallant Charlie. Lizzie followed like a handmaiden.
Georgie turned towards Charlie, glaring. “What do you think you’re doing, Charlie? I’m working, and they’re mine.”
“They’re all yours, Georgie.” Charlie attempted to prepare her colleague for interview. She smiled at Georgie, and the older woman could not help but mirror Charlie’s charm. “We’ll be quick. And I will get you some wine.”
Georgie’s large features relaxed into conversation as she sipped her wine. “Right, what do you want?” She directed the question towards Charlie, whilst looking over Lizzie’s shoulder and winking and smiling at her audience during their interval.
“We’re trying to work out what happened to Dina.”
Georgie looked at Charlie directly, forgetting her crowd. “Charlie, don’t. You know what happens to women like us when we go interfering with things like this. We end up like Dina.”
The three women were encased briefly in a private silence.
“I’m sorry, Charlie, Lizzie. I don’t mean to speak ill of Dina. She was a goddess. I don’t want you two getting hurt. Lizzie, tell her.” Georgie looked hopefully towards Lizzie, her knowing eyes concealed with hope.
“We’re being careful, Georgie, and Ted’s helping us.”
Georgie looked beyond Lizzie once more, sending off emissaries of promise towards her audience with each look across the tavern. “Is he that handsome man you were with when I saw you last?”
Lizzie nodded timidly.
“Well, be careful there as well. There’s more than one way to be hurt in this game. Tell her, Charlie.”
“She knows. Look, Georgie. We’re being careful, but we’ve got to do something. Nobody gives a damn, you know that.”
“What can I do to help?” Georgie continued to direct her large body towards her waiting crowd, but her focus, though distant, was not with them. “I told you everything I could the last time I saw you, for all the good it did.”
“We’ve found out that she got in a carriage the last time she was seen. We think it might have been a servant using their master’s carriage to impress the ladies. Do you know in whose houses they’ve been at it recently?”
Georgie blew a kiss across the tavern, which refracted through glass and arrived on each of her admirer’s cheeks. “There’s been a lot of it. It’s August, the masters are away, you know that. I’ve spent one or two evenings in great houses this summer. Sir Cartwright’s house has been busy all summer. Sir Peterhouse and Sir Denbigh. The only house where they don’t dare is Sir Glynne’s. The staff know the women are all for him.”
Georgie finished her wine and turned briefly to the two young women. “Girls, I need to get back to work. They won’t wait forever.” She winked once more towards her crowd and placed her glass dramatically on the bar.
“One more thing, Georgie. Do you know who has a boar on their carriage?”
Georgie had started to push through the crowd, her width cushioning those around her, but she turned around wistfully. “I don’t. Sorry, Charlie. It’s the Maries and Dinas of this world that get to find out that sort of thing. You and me are stuck with this lot.” She gestured around the tavern, her reflected hand creating an illusion of a large and whirling mechanical doll.
Georgie’s audience applauded her return to the booth and kissed the very hand kissed by royalty. Charlie smiled fondly towards her, and Georgie nodded
across the room before revealing her chest a little more for the drooping gazes of her admirers.
“There you are.” Ted was flushed as he stood between Lizzie and Charlie. “Has anyone seen Georgie?”
Charlie nodded towards the booth as it exploded with laughter once more. “We’ve spoken to her. There are a few houses we can try where the servants have been using the carriages this summer.”
“Anything else?”
“Nothing we don’t know already.” Charlie looked at Lizzie, who avoided the shared knowledge in her eyes. “Right, I have a certain lady waiting for me, so if you two are alright to get yourselves home, I’ll be off. Lizzie?”
“Of course, Charlie. We’ll be fine.” Lizzie threaded her arm through Ted’s but didn’t move. “Charlie?”
Her familiar face turned quickly, and her elfin features reflected all around.
“Take care.”
Charlie’s nod appeared like a circle of mannequins around Lizzie before disappearing completely from The Lamb.
21
“Don’t go.”
Lizzie turned slowly within Ted’s embrace. She peered upwards towards his face. His eyes were closed, and he breathed a little louder than when fully awake, as if his body enjoyed the final few intakes of air at ease before its exertions began.
“Don’t go where?” Lizzie looked expectantly.
Ted’s chest lifted her head gently up and down in time with his breathing. “Don’t work tonight. Don’t go.” The words were quiet and spoken by a tired voice.
Ted’s eyes remained closed as Lizzie scrutinised his face for further explanation.
“I… I have to work, Ted.”
Ted turned towards her, opening his eyes. “Don’t go. I can take care of you. I’ll keep Mrs Henry happy. You’ll have money. Don’t go.” Ted’s stare made a promise of his words.
Lizzie declined his promise in a sad and wordless silence.
“Please, Lizzie, don’t.”
She rose from the bed and pulled on a faded gown, its print of exotic birds faded to pastel, and she hid behind the screen in her room. She pinned her hair quickly, strands falling around her ears. She turned and popped her head outwards, having busied away her heartache.
“Ted, this is what I am. This is what I do. I don’t know how to do anything else.”
She presented him with her certainty, and he met it with disarming generosity. “You don’t need to be anything else, Lizzie. Let me take care of you.”
She turned from him, his offer too good to refuse, but still, she knew it could never work. She had seen kept women before; the arrangements were always brief, possessive and unsuccessful. The rare exceptions were the mistresses of the upper classes, and they also were replaced when their sheen faded. A woman who had been bought was exactly that, be that by one man or many.
“Ted. It wouldn’t work. This is who I am. This is why you’re here. This is how I have somewhere to live with Mrs Henry.”
He quietly turned in her bed, his disappointment extending into the room. Lizzie tidied her paints and then turned to study the strong back she was becoming so familiar with. Ted’s kindness still surprised her; she felt a burst of excitement each time he returned to meet her.
She walked around the foot of the bed and sat on the edge near his stomach and an arm outstretched as if extending towards her. She brushed back his slightly damp hair. His eyes remained closed, but his arm curled around her. She pictured herself doing this every morning, then preparing his breakfast with the other wives at the barracks before he set off on his latest adventures. And what of her then?
“Thank you, Ted. It’s very kind of you. I can’t accept your offer.”
His eyes remained closed, and she felt his deep breathing as his arm moved in time with his chest. She relaxed, his larger body easily propping her weight.
Carts were begrudgingly moving outside, and Lizzie wondered whether it would be another hot day. The sun’s intensity was dwindling and there had been stormy showers all week. The summer was drawing to a close, and soon Ted would leave with the heat and Lizzie would return to her regulars and her routine with Mrs Henry.
The motion of Ted’s breathing swayed Lizzie as her mind wandered. His eyes opened, and she was stirred by the small movement.
“Lizzie.”
“Yes?”
He exhaled his resignation and uncurled his arm.
***
Charlie, Lizzie and Mary set off towards Covent Garden. It had rained again, and the dampened streets were just beginning to regain their patrons. Lizzie glanced towards Mary. The young woman looked pretty, as always. This evening, she was wearing a blue dress that Charlie had given her. It reflected the angry depths of the sky as stormy clouds passed over the city, giving Mary a slight otherworldly air, as if she were a mermaid. Her innocence was still evident, preserved by the light paint Lizzie had applied to her young face. Again, Lizzie had been torn, knowing that many men would relish the opportunity of enlightening Mary and taking her innocence.
Lizzie glanced at her companion again. As they’d prepared to leave Mrs Henry’s, she had noticed that Mary’s eyes seemed tired. Her enquiries about Mary’s health had been met with assurances of wellbeing, but Mary’s eyes were still red around the edges, and Lizzie observed the sadness creeping along her temples—marked by their trade.
Lizzie turned to Charlie, who was dressed unusually in black. Her playful features were painted dramatically, and she seemed like an evil queen with her elfin hair waxed in angular points towards her cheeks. Charlie’s customers would not recognise her, and Lizzie wondered at her friend’s reincarnation—there was something of Dina in Charlie’s regal appearance this evening.
All three women had found themselves with no planned companions and so decided to make their way to one of the city’s many showgrounds. The walk was relatively pleasant, the city refreshed by rain.
As they neared the centre of Covent Garden, their peers emerged from the paths that led to the piazza. The streets were being worn dry by busy feet and brushed by skirts. Lizzie nodded at the girls she knew. One or two looked in surprise at Charlie, and Lizzie wondered whether they even recognised her.
Charlie was unusually quiet despite her dramatic appearance, and Lizzie’s gaze wandered towards her friend again. Charlie looked straight ahead as if daring the city to sway her from her path. Lizzie tried to catch her eye, but she was unwavering. Lizzie often wondered what took place beneath her confident good humour.
Lizzie returned her gaze towards their destination and tried to enact some of Charlie’s determination. As if London functioned as one big mechanical time device, propelling its citizens to the appropriate place at the appropriate time, potential customers also began to enter the piazza from all directions. They looked so similar, like ants moving towards a shared goal. Lizzie recognised the spring of hope in the step of some, the swagger of confidence and power in others.
Music grew louder, and the clamour of early carousing subsumed the three young women as they entered the piazza.
Charlie relaxed to direct a wink each at Lizzie and Mary. “Take care tonight.”
She strode towards a group of young men dressed in velvet jackets talking loudly and laughing vacuously. Lizzie admired her friend’s strong back as she walked through the prostitutes and drunks of Covent Garden like a queen towards her coronation. Charlie raised her slight hand to be admired by the loud group. Their talk came to a stop, and one after the other they bowed before her. A small, dark-haired member of the group raised himself up, the familiar look of desire and opportunity in his eyes as he kissed Charlie’s outstretched hand. One after the other, his companions followed his lead, and Lizzie saw that her friend would be occupied and profitable this evening.
While Lizzie watched Charlie, two men had approached from behind Mary and Lizzie and were busy taking account of the two young women’s advantages.
“The one on the right’s the older sister, surely.”
“No. The
y’re twins, I tell you.”
Lizzie turned as their conversation edged into her hearing and blushed a little at the compliment despite herself. Mary had also turned, and the slight pink on her cheeks made her look entirely the surprised innocent. Lizzie took a moment to regain her professional flirtation, then beamed up at two young men in loose shirts with open, playful faces.
“Oh, please. Sister? I’m old enough to be her mother,” Lizzie chastised in jest, and the men accepted her invitation to flatter.
“Old enough, no. Beautiful enough, yes indeed.” The young man who addressed her had long hair, which he tossed back from his face at the end of his phrases only to return his direct gaze to Lizzie afterwards.
“Mary is beautiful, and I have no part in that, I’m afraid. I am an ordinary Londoner who has been here long enough to know the city inside out.”
The second young man nodded towards Mary, his agreement with Lizzie’s description of her evident in his constant gaze, as if it were possible to undress her by dissolving her clothes with his eyes.
The first young man looked at Lizzie. “If you are an ordinary Londoner then I imagine an extraordinary Londoner would kill me with one glance. Your beauty is otherworldly, and theirs must be fatal.” He continued to smile openly and inched a little closer to Lizzie, as if studying a scientific specimen. “You are a most handsome Londoner, and if you are ordinary then London is as vibrant as ever and fairer than ever.”
Lizzie nodded in acceptance of this compliment. “And what are your plans to explore this vibrant city this evening?”
Pleasure at the present conversation and the potential for the rest of the evening bloomed over the young man’s face. “Well, we are two actors far from home. My friend is Matthew, and I am Jack. We are here to entertain the city, to raise her spirits, and tonight we hope that she will entertain us.”
Jack followed his response with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows and his smile, which had not wavered since their conversation began.
Lizzie’s mind wandered to Ted. She pictured him in her bed that morning and remembered what he had asked of her. She blinked purposefully, then smiled towards Mary.
