A House of Repute

by E M Jones

  “Oh, girls!” Mrs Henry turned and once more looked for comfort in the same yard of kitchen floor.

  “Sit down, Mrs H.” Charlie’s voice was muffled by the cloth. “I’ll make us a drink in a minute.”

  Mrs Henry paused in her journey, ran her hand through her hair once more, said “Oh, girls,” then continued to journey across her yard of kitchen floor.

  “We’re alright, Mrs Henry. Sit down.” Speaking hurt, Lizzie realised.

  Mrs Henry turned and sat down. She looked back and forth between Lizzie and Charlie, before also leaning her elbows on the worn wood. “Oh, girls.”

  “We’ll be alright, Mrs H. A bit of a rest today and we’ll be back out tonight—won’t we, Lizzie?”

  The prospect of working again almost made Lizzie fall off her chair and give up on getting up, but Charlie was right. “Yes, we will.”

  “Was it your lady friend, Charlie?” Mrs Henry looked up, only to be faced with Charlie’s wounds, and returned her head to her hands.

  “No, a new customer. He didn’t want to pay, didn’t want me to go home, didn’t want to do anything apart from be in charge. You know the kind.”

  The tousled, dry mound of hair nodded.

  “I’m alright. We’ve seen worse, haven’t we?”

  Charlie’s attempt at lightness was met by silence.

  “What about you, Lizzie?” Mrs Henry looked up briefly. “You’re usually very sensible.”

  Lizzie gathered the strength to speak. “He was just energetic, Mrs Henry. He was getting his money’s worth.”

  She tried not to remember Arthur’s contracting moustache as he dominated her and relished in her subjection. She struggled to breathe steadily so as not to upset her body further.

  “Oh, girls.” Mrs Henry shook her head.

  Charlie rose slowly and rinsed her cloth in a bucket before returning it to her face. She made her way back and placed a gentle arm on Lizzie’s shoulder.

  “We’ll be alright, Mrs H. Lizzie and I are tougher than we look.”

  Lizzie managed to lift her arm and place a hand on Charlie’s.

  Mrs Henry looked up at the two wounded young women and shook her head once more. “Oh, girls.”

  24

  Lizzie jolted into self-defence and swung around to strike the impertinent presence on her hip. Her ribs inflamed in protest at such a sudden and decisive action. Her hand stopped just in time, close enough to feel the warmth of Ted’s face. As she relaxed, her ribs’ complaints overcame her pleasure at seeing Ted, and she winced in greeting.

  “Lizzie? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m alright.”

  Ted’s concern interrogated Lizzie as he looked down at her.

  “I’m just a little sore.”

  “What happened?”

  “Just a fall last night.”

  “A fall where?”

  “Just out and about.”

  “Lizzie?” Ted’s eyes conveyed his scepticism.

  “Lizzie!” Johnny’s uncomplicated voice rescued Lizzie from further interrogation. She and Ted turned towards the large, gentle man. “Lizzie, how’d you get on?”

  Ted looked from Lizzie to Johnny.

  “Come on,” Lizzie said. “Let’s go over to The Alhambra, Charlie’s going to come over as well.”

  ***

  The group was misplaced: two women not attempting to solicit, a soldier at ease and a doorman who had misread the time. In the fading heat of a late morning in late August, they huddled outside The Alhambra. All oblivious to their surroundings, heads bowed as if in a ritual worship to their own deity.

  “Did he hurt you, Lizzie?” Ted’s eyes were fierce as he resumed his interrogation.

  Charlie changed the subject. “Did he say anything about Dina? Or about this other girl?”

  Lizzie turned to Charlie as she took on the role of interrogator. She tried to organise her thoughts and ignore the pain in her side, which felt as if her ribs were being strummed by spiteful, cold fingers. Putting her evidence in order, Lizzie focused on Johnny’s calm and open face, ignoring the hungry anticipation of Charlie and Ted.

  “What happened, Lizzie?”

  Johnny’s kind question provided her with the start she needed. “Arthur knew the most recent girl who’s been killed. He wasn’t sure of her name—Hannah or Harriet. They had been together, but she had found a new companion since. She said it was a rich man. That’s all Arthur knows.”

  “Do you think he’s killing them?” Charlie’s direct question voiced a fear Lizzie had refused to admit the previous day.

  Lizzie felt the strumming bruises on her ribs again, the uneven swelling of her abused stomach beneath her corset. “No, I don’t.”

  “Why not?” Ted’s question arrived like an accusation.

  Lizzie looked at his angry, worried eyes and answered calmly. “Because he’s not that sort of man. He’s a little man who wants to be a big man. He’s not important and he wants to be important. He likes women. He likes women so much he doesn’t really know what to do when he’s with us. So he acts like a prize bachelor and one of London’s best romancers. He wouldn’t kill women because he enjoys us too much. Women are his pleasure; he can live out his fantasies with us. He can be a big, important, powerful man with us without killing us. He wouldn’t kill, because without us, he’s back to being nobody.”

  Reflection descended on the huddled group. All four stared at the stained ground, awaiting inspiration.

  “Do you think there’s anything in this rich new companion?”

  All heads swung towards Johnny, who reddened at the attention.

  “This poor girl and Elsbeth had said that they had a new companion, a high-class new companion. Dina went off with that posh bloke. Maybe it’s the same one, somebody pretending to be grand to get these girls to go with them and using their master’s carriage as part of their act.”

  “What you’re saying makes sense. It happens.” Charlie had looked up and spoke with authority, addressing each member of the group. “The only thing I can’t make sense of is Dina. Dina was the best. She could have any customer she wanted. She had the customer everybody wanted—Sir Glynne. She wouldn’t fall for a gimmick like this one. She knew a butler or a footman when she saw one. She was haughty, almost like a queen even though she was one of us. She wouldn’t go off in any old carriage with a servant in a cheap suit.”

  “What do you think’s going on, then, Charl?” Johnny looked down at her for direction.

  Charlie’s face set in a square determination at odds with her elfin features. “I think the bastard’s clever. Really clever. And we have to catch him.”

  ***

  Alone and tired, Lizzie jolted at the hand on her arm.

  “Lizzie.”

  Ted held on to her arm, and she turned in response to his voice without thinking. “Ted.”

  The anger had left his eyes. Their speckled brown was filled with concern. “Are you alright?”

  Lizzie looked up. A wish flashed across her mind: that her life could be different and she could live with Ted. She winced. “I am. It’s part of the job.”

  “You need to be careful, Lizzie. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  “I am. Charlie, me, we are careful.”

  He looked down at her and continued to hold her arm gently. “Can you try to be more careful, please?”

  “Yes.” Lizzie held his hand.

  “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

  ***

  Charlie’s voice had reached an unusually high pitch. As Lizzie entered the parlour in pursuit of her friend’s squawk, she found Charlie and Mrs Henry leaping like tadpoles. Mrs Henry was dressed for her burial. Her paint was thick and rouge high, her brittle hair gathered into a meringue-like mass on her head, dusting the room with the powder that held it in place as she moved. She had resurrected one of her finest faded dresses and held onto Charlie’s hands as if congratulating a bride on her wedding day.

  “Yes, Charlie!”
Mrs Henry gave another small leap, her feet leaving the ground by less than an inch.

  Lizzie’s timbre joined Charlie’s at the sight. “Mrs Henry!”

  “Lizzie!” Mrs Henry clasped Lizzie’s hand, and once more the decorated mass lifted into the air and descended, dusting the floor with snow. “Oh, Lizzie!” Her old eyes gleamed amongst the paint, like marbles set in a cracking dessert.

  “Lizzie!” Charlie joined Mrs Henry and held Lizzie’s arm. Her unusual tone jarred in Lizzie’s ears.

  Charlie flicked her eyes widely towards the hearth as she held Lizzie. Lizzie’s bewilderment moved her to wilder gesticulations. She began to jolt her head toward the hearth in time to kicking in that direction. “Lizzie!”

  Another squawk and further jolting. Charlie was like a wooden toy moved by a force beyond Lizzie’s understanding.

  “We are to be great again, Lizzie, and thanks to you.” Mrs Henry clasped Lizzie to her.

  Trapped in this embrace, Lizzie watched over Mrs Henry’s shoulder as Charlie continued to move like a cowboy having taken too much wine. Charlie’s eyes moved wildly in her head, but Lizzie could not make out the meaning and felt like a lone visitor at an asylum.

  “Sit down, Lizzie.” Mrs Henry released Lizzie and led her to a chair. Her face shifted into a wide smile as she looked at Lizzie. “We are to be great again.” A giggle escaped from her mouth, interrupting her speech. “We are to be the house of highest repute in all of London once more. We have been chosen by a peer of the realm.” Her smile widened, forcing her hanging skin further apart like the jowls of a mastiff. “We have been chosen, Lizzie! You have been chosen!”

  Mrs Henry clapped her hands and rolled in her chair. Lizzie feared the old woman would topple over and be immobile on the dusty floor like a discarded Christmas tree.

  Lizzie held Mrs Henry’s arm to anchor her bulk. “Mrs Henry, this is brilliant news. Who has chosen us?”

  Charlie had hovered into Lizzie’s vision and had been performing a dance interpretation of Mrs Henry’s words throughout the conversation. Her head continued to jolt feverishly towards the hearth, and the kicking of her legs seemed involuntarily by now. Lizzie feared Charlie might also lose her balance soon and she would have both women lying insensibly in her care.

  “Sir Glynne!” Mrs Henry’s exclamation burst from her mouth and interrupted Lizzie’s puzzling.

  “Sir Glynne!” Charlie’s exclamation followed Mrs Henry’s, and the relief of speaking stopped her feverish motion.

  “He wants to see you, Lizzie. Tomorrow night. He’s asked for one of my girls again!” Mrs Henry leapt from her chair like a young otter. Lizzie sat back in hers. “My house will be great again!”

  Mrs Henry set off on a victorious parade around the parlour. She scattered dust from her now crumbling hair and moved her elderly bulk with remarkable pace and rhythm. Caught in a ritual dance, she was oblivious to Lizzie’s lack of response.

  Charlie, returned to human form, sat next to Lizzie. “He wants you.” She nodded once more to the hearth.

  Lizzie saw a calling card on the mantle. “He wants me.”

  Charlie nodded and held Lizzie’s arm. Mrs Henry moved past them, declaring a musical “Oh, girls!” on her way.

  “What do you think, Lizzie?”

  Lizzie contemplated. She had many thoughts, not many particularly positive.

  “I’ve always said you’re one of the best.” Charlie grinned towards Lizzie. The cheeky glint in her eye almost drew Lizzie into jest. “You’re beautiful, you’re clever. You keep yourself reasonably clean, and you’ve got class. You’re more graceful and dignified than me, which I suppose isn’t difficult, but you’re more graceful and dignified than a lot of girls.”

  Lizzie did smile. She remembered Charlie’s drunken cowboy act of a few moments ago. “Yes, I am more dignified than you. But you have charm.”

  “Charm be damned! I’m rough and ready and can tell a few jokes, not like you. You’ve got the hair, the body, the face and inner beauty—the full set. I’ve got half a set, if that, and make the best of it!”

  Both young women laughed, and Mrs Henry joined them, continuing her victory dance.

  “Thanks, Charlie,” said Lizzie.

  “What will you do, Lizzie?” Charlie looked at her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Will you go to him?”

  “A peer of the realm has called for me, Charlie. And he will have me.”

  25

  “There. Perfect.”

  Lizzie lifted her head and met a stranger in her reflection. “Wow. Thanks, Charlie.”

  “You’re a stunner, Lizzie. Sir Glynne’s going to think a princess has arrived to see him.” Charlie’s reflection appraised her work, then nodded and smiled in contentment.

  “I doubt he’ll think I’m a princess; he knows where I’ve come from.”

  “Yes, but I come from the same place, and he hasn’t chosen me, has he? He knows class when he sees it. I’ve always said you’ve got breeding.” Charlie gave Lizzie an un-regal poke in the ribs and then caressed her dress back into its smooth line.

  Lizzie looked at her reflection once more and patted her hair, which Charlie had moulded into a proud sculpture on top of her head. She looked down at the satin gown that Mrs Henry had given her—one of Dina’s—and smoothed the fabric over her stomach and down to her thighs. Having fixed herself in place, she looked up again.

  “Dina would be proud.”

  Lizzie turned around. Charlie was leaning back on the edge of the bed, her legs folded like a courtesan admiring a beauty.

  Lizzie reddened in confusion. “Yes, I think you’re right. And it’s down to your handiwork and the disguise you’ve given me.” Heat crept up her neck, and she turned to tidy her paints.

  “No, Lizzie. All I’ve done is try to make you a little more like Dina, a bit more aloof, standoffish, than you really are. What he’ll soon learn is that you are absolutely lovely just as you are.”

  Charlie leapt up and gently turned Lizzie to face her. “Good luck tonight.”

  Charlie’s lips were soft and small on Lizzie’s painted cheek, and she bounced out of the room while Lizzie was still wondering at such gentleness.

  ***

  “Lizzie. Look at you. Lizzie.” Tears gathered at the edges of Mrs Henry’s eyes and threatened to stream over the crinkled caverns that surrounded them. “Oh, Lizzie. We are great again. One of my girls, once more entertaining a peer of the realm.”

  A tear erupted and zig-zagged its way along the contours of Mrs Henry’s cheek.

  “I hope it goes well, Mrs Henry. I hope I do as well as Dina.”

  The mention of Dina’s name led to a further eruption from the volcanoes of Mrs Henry’s eyes, and she squeezed Lizzie’s hand to the point of discomfort.

  Lizzie took the old woman’s hands in hers. “I’ll do my best for us, and for Dina.”

  “Of course you will.” The words were stilted by increasingly loud sobs, and Lizzie was beginning to feel like a misplaced bride on the morning of her wedding.

  “Right then, I had better go and meet the carriage.”

  Mrs Henry smoothed Lizzie’s dress and stared proudly at her once more. “Good luck, Lizzie. Make sure that you please him.”

  “I’ll do my best for him.”

  “And for us, Lizzie.” Charlie had emerged at Mrs Henry’s side and held the old woman’s hand so Lizzie could be released. “Steal us some silver! Hide it in your frock!”

  Mrs Henry tapped her on the arm.

  “Sorry, Mrs H, but you know, we must profit where we can.”

  Another tap on Charlie’s arm. “Don’t be silly, Charlie. Sir Glynne is a peer of the realm. Lizzie would not bring us into such disrepute.”

  “No, she wouldn’t. Do you think that’s why he chose her and not me? I’m a bit too rough around the edges.”

  Mrs Henry gathered her breath as if to chastise, but then smiled. “Charlie, you have your charms, but I think Sir
Glynne is looking for something a little different, a little more refined. There is nothing rough about my household, and none of my girls are rough in any way, and I am proud to have you here. Where are you going this evening?”

  “I think my lady friend will be at The Alhambra, so I might start there.”

  “Good idea. She is very fond of you. You see. We provide pleasure for all here, and you have a… a special way with you.”

  Lizzie had slowed her pace to enjoy the familiar disagreements between Mrs Henry and Charlie, but it was now time to go.

  She shivered. The evenings were growing colder as autumn fell. A carriage approached like a demon pursuing its prey, and Lizzie was reminded of the mysterious carriage Dina had entered before her death. She peered through the dusk, but there was no boar as an ensign, just a polished ‘G’ declaring its heritage to the street. As the carriage approached, Lizzie felt the impending return of her regular routine, her predictable patrons and occasional new customer making particularly busy working days. Or would her next step change everything?

  The carriage stopped in front of her.

  A footman descended. “Good evening, ma’am.”

  “Good evening.”

  “Are you ready to go, ma’am?” The footman held out his arm without irony.

  “Yes, thank you.” Lizzie stepped up into the carriage.

  She wished she could inhale the luxury of the carriage. Everything was rich. The seat was deep and moulded itself to support her body. The door was lined with dark leather that bulged with expense; the wood and brass was polished and caught the fading light of the evening. Lizzie did feel like a princess. As the horses carried her through the streets with ease, she sat back and waited to meet her new master.

  ***

  The house was larger than Lizzie had imagined. As she was guided down the steps and out of the carriage, the old stones looked down at her. She steadied herself against their scrutiny and was walked towards an impenetrable front door. It opened as she approached, as if she had uttered a secret code.