by Unknown
Minnow! Had she called this huge person Minnow? Of all the inappropriate names, this was the worst. Charity was too giddy to suppress a giggle. Minnow cast her a withering glance, but she could see Amiee's face struggle for immobility. She turned to speak to the second man after Minnow had gone.
"Tiny, I think you'd better go and see if we can scare up some clothes from the others. A few more ounces of dirt and these clothes are going to fall off of them."
Tiny! That was even more ludicrous. But this time Charity contained her amusement. The scent of food had sent her stomach into cramps, and the room seemed to waver about her.
"Sit down before you fall." Amiee snapped the order, but Charity needed no encouragement. Her legs were so weak she would have sagged to the floor had not a chair been close by. Beth fared no better. Her face was as white as a sheet, partly from hunger and partly from fear.
The room was silent as Amiee assessed her two guests. She decided at once that she had made the right choice in protecting them. But she was curious
about how two helpless lambs had gotten into this fix.
Before Charity could master herself, a small form appeared in one of the doorways. It was a child of perhaps eight. She limped inside on a twisted foot, and when the lamplight fell on her face, Charity saw that although her body was young, her eyes were old. Old and wary and distrusting. Charity smiled at her, but the smile was not returned. Instead the girl set the basket between Charity and Beth and quietly left the room.
"That was Emma. She can't talk, but she's not as helpless as she looks. I don't know what's in the basket," Amiee said, "but you'd best eat. There won't be more until tomorrow."
Charity slid from the chair to her knees by the basket and tore it open. She was so hungry that her hands shook and tears came to her eyes. Inside the basket was a half loaf of bread, some cheese, and several pieces of fruit. Charity tore pieces from the bread and cheese and handed them to Beth, who uttered an inarticulate sound. Charity fought to keep from wolfing the food down, but still, when the first poorly chewed bite hit her stomach, she bent forward, clutching her stomach as it convulsed.
"Eat slowly and chew well," Amiee commanded. Her voice was firm and cold, and neither girl saw the combined anger and sympathy that momentarily touched her eyes.
Both girls, trembling, tried to obey. After a while they won the battle and the food remained in their stomachs.
When Amiee was satisfied that they were fed, they were led to a room where a large wooden tub was filled with warm water. They had no way of knowing that this was Amiee's tub or that she had never allowed its use by anyone else before.
Charity almost groaned aloud as she sank into the water and washed the layers of dirt from her hair and skin. Beth, too, was intoxicated by the pleasure.
Their clothes were taken away and clean ones brought. The clothing was an assortment so odd that Charity realized they were odds and ends. But they were clean, and for now that was all that mattered.
Both girls were exhausted and afraid of getting lost in this unique structure. So they sat quietly and waited. But the wait was long, and soon they dropped off into much-needed sleep.
Charity drifted up from sleep and stirred. In her dream she was again curled in the warmth of a soft bed. She snuggled beneath the blankets and drew the pillow over her head. Pillow? Bed?
She sat up abruptly. Sometime during the night she had been moved. She felt uncomfortable at the thought. When she looked about, she saw Beth curled in a ball in a bed across the room from her. Then she realized there was another bed in the room, but it was empty.
The sun coming in the window was pale, and Charity sensed it must be early morning. There was no way of knowing how long she had slept.
She tossed the covers aside and walked to the one
window. Using the tips of her fingers she cleaned a circle in the thick dust so she could look out.
The center court bustled with activity. There were children of all ages, urchins in ragged clothes, grown men and women who looked extremely strange to Charity until she realized that they were dressed in everything from rags to rather fine-looking clothes. They looked like a hodgepodge of people thrown together by accident.
Charity could hear the sound of muffled voices coming from a nearby room and she threw a blanket about herself and crossed to the half-open door. When she pushed it open she found Amiee, Tiny, Minnow, and several others seated at a table, eating and talking.
It was Minnow who saw her first, but soon they were all gazing at her. This was the first time Charity had really looked at Amiee. She was pretty in a gypsy kind of way. She had even features, a generous mouth, and a thick mass of black curly hair that hung below her shoulders.
Charity was invited to join them for breakfast, and soon she found she was relaxing and truly enjoying the openness of these people. They seemed to have no roots, and to have come from every walk of life, yet after a while she realized their roots were that this hodgepodge of people made up a kind of family. And this collection of rough buildings that they had lovingly called "the Round" was their home.
They supported each other by any means at their disposal, and she was sure most were a bit shady. She knew one thing for certain: This was a communal af-
fair, and one day, if she and Beth wanted to stay, they would have to find a way to contribute.
Charity and Beth had been in the Round for over two weeks, and both knew quite well that Amiee and all the others watched every move they made. Charity had a feeling that Amiee was assessing them much as she would if she were intending to hire them. Beth and Charity wondered whether or not they would pass inspection. Both rather wished they would, because they felt a sense of peace and contentment . . . and acceptance here.
It was early in the morning several days later as Charity was dressing that Amiee approached her.
"Good morning."
Charity spun about, startled at the sound of her voice. Amiee stood in the doorway, one shoulder braced against it and her arms folded across her chest. Charity wondered how long she had stood watching her before she had spoken.
Actually, Amiee had been there from the moment Charity had gotten up from the bed. She had watched her closely. Always an excellent judge of people, she had no trouble characterizing Charity, an excellent actress, a girl who could look and act like a lady of culture and exude an aura of sweet innocence. She was perfect for what Amiee had in mind.
Of course, her plans depended on Charity's being persuaded to agree. Aimee knew that Charity was wary and careful.
"Good morning," Charity replied. "I've never really had the chance to thank you, Amiee."
''That's all right."
"And Minnow and Tiny have been so protective."
"Minnow is a gentle giant."
"Minnow." Again Charity stifled a laugh.
"I would not let him find you laughing at his name. We don't know what his real name is. It seems he was chucked into the river when he was a babe, and a friend of mine pulled him out while he was fishing. He called him Minnow, and it stuck. But he tends to get violent if the wrong person laughs at his name."
"You are all so very special and you've created your own world here. I admire that. Compared to you all, I'm nobody."
"Everyone is someone. Why did we find you and Beth in an alley looking like two little lambs about to make a meal for Shylock?"
"It's a long story." Charity wasn't quite prepared to trust anyone with the whole truth of where she had come from and why.
"I've plenty of time . . . unless you plan to leave right now." Amiee added softly, "You have to trust someone, sometime."
"It's hard to leave when we have no place to go."
"Then you can stay, and perhaps trust will come later."
"No," Charity said quietly. "It's time for decisions now."
She walked back to the bed and sat cross-legged in the middle of it. Amiee didn't move. Slowly Charity began to explain how Beth and she had gotten into the predi
cament they were in. Amiee didn't interrupt. The older woman was watching her so intently that
Charity's nerves stretched tighter with every second. When she finished the story, Amiee stood still, as if she were considering the implications of Charity's words.
"Why did you not just give him what he wanted? Think of how much you had to gain."
"He was a pig." Charity's chin went up proudly and her eyes glowed with anger. "I wouldn't sell myself to him like a toy for a few baubles."
"No, I suppose you wouldn't," Amiee murmured. "You're stronger than you know, Charity. Some people never understand that the stronger person bends with the wind and the weak, brittle person breaks. You'll do what needs to be done, and I feel you'll be good at it."
"Good at what?"
"Being believed."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Charity replied. "If you think I'm going to do for you what that beast in the alley wanted me to do for him, you're crazy. You can have your clothes back, and somehow I'll find a way to repay you for the food and the bed."
Amiee's laugh was full and free. "You think I am a whore?"
"I didn't say that."
"I am not a whore and none of my people are. The street was my home until . . . never mind about that. You may choose to stay or to go. Either way you will have to learn to do things that are necessary for survival."
"Where do you come from?" Charity asked.
"Who knows? It's not where you come from, but
who and where you are." Amiee finally walked close to Charity and sat down beside her. "When you ran, did you consider what you were running to?"
"I didn't have time for that."
"You didn't think it would be so ugly or so hard out here, and you didn't consider how you would care for your friend."
"I guess I didn't. But I had to make a decision."
"Are you up to making another one?"
"I can listen. I have few choices, and I don't relish the thought of going out on those streets and starving."
"You could go back and give in, or you could learn how to survive here."
"I won't go back," Charity said stubbornly. Her gaze met Amiee's. "And I will survive. I'll see that Beth survives too."
"Not unless you learn a lot more."
"I'm not exactly stupid."
"No, just green."
"Perhaps."
"But you are strong and determined, I'll give you that."
Charity knew she and Beth could not survive on the streets alone, just as she knew she could not go back. She had to swallow both her anger and the pride that would put her and Beth back in a situation that would drain the life from them both. She had to learn whatever it took to keep her and Beth safe. She had to.
"Amiee . . . what is it you're suggesting we do?" she asked quietly.
Over the next few days Charity began to learn just what was expected of her and Beth.
One night, when Beth and she found themselves alone in their sleeping quarters, they discussed their new friends.
"Charity, they're . . . they're thieves. They're pickpockets. They're . . . I don't know what else!"
"Highwaymen, bandits, swindlers, and sundry other things." Charity smiled. "And they only steal from those who can afford it. Better yet, they eat regularly."
"They steal the food they eat!"
"Yes," Charity said quietly, "and they stole the food that fed us and kept us from starving."
"I know. You should see how . . . adept Piper is," Beth said, mentioning the twelve-year-old girl who was instructing her in the ways of the Round.
"I can imagine. Beth . . . no one stays here that can't or won't pull their own weight. We have to learn."
"Learn! To steal!"
"I suppose it comes down to that. We can't live on their efforts; they can't afford it."
"Then . . . you want to join them? Become a thief?"
Charity's gaze met Beth's steadily. "If it is the only way I can survive, yes. For now. I intend to find my own future. If it means I must do this for a while"Charity smiled"then I will be better at it than anyone else."
"Then . . . we'll be thieves together."
As Charity embraced Beth, both knew that what
they planned to do was a breach of their own standards. Yet both knew they had very little choice.
Within the next few months Charity and even a reluctant Beth learned to filch a purse from a man or woman with little effort. But Amiee taught much more than that. Charity's acting abilities were polished until she could pass for a lady in any circle.
Since most of the lucrative excursions were made in the late afternoon and early evening when shoppers and theater-goers were prevalent, Charity found her mornings free.
On such a morning Charity discovered Amiee dressing to go out. She realized then that Amiee often made these solitary excursions.
"Off again this morning?" she questioned with an innocence Amiee could see through at once.
"Yes, miss nosy, and if you want to come along, ask. Don't follow me like you did last week."
Charity had the grace to look sheepish. "You lost me within minutes. I wish I could be as good as that as you are."
"You haven't had a couple of bobbies on your heels yet. You will in time. Then you'll keep Piper's lessons in mind and learn to vanish."
"You really don't mind if I come along?"
"No. I'd enjoy your company." Amiee smiled and started for the door with Charity right behind her.
They left the Round, entering a street of houses that was neither shabby nor elegant. Amiee stopped before a large stone, two-storey house. But instead of
knocking, she opened the door and stood at the bottom of the steps.
"Jason! Are you decent?" she shouted. A masculine voice came from above.
"No! But that never mattered to you before. Come on up."
"I've brought a friend," Amiee said as she started up the steps. "And I don't want her corrupted by your questionable pictures."
"Questionable!" The voice came louder as they moved up. "On second thought, send her up and you go home."
Amiee was still laughing as she approached an open door and was met by a man who snatched her up in his arms and kissed her soundly. Then he let her go and turned to look at Charity.
"Well, well," he said softly. "Amiee, where did you get this beauty?"
"You're not going to paint her, so forget it."
"Nobody asked you," he retorted as he stopped to stand by Charity. "Of course, you'll pose for me. I paint angels better than anyone else."
"This is Jason Desmond, Charity. Don't trust him an inch."
"Hello, Mr. Desmond." Charity smiled up into friendly gray eyes.
Jason Desmond was tall, well over six feet. He towered over Charity. His auburn hair was thick and much too long to be fashionable. Still, it suited him. His smile was open, and she liked him at once.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, and no, I won't pose for you."
"Amiee's corrupted you. I'm as gentle as a lamb," Jason protested. "What's your name?"
"Charity. Charity Gilbert."
"Come in, Charity. Let me show you around."
Charity was ushered into a large room which was brightened by skylights. There was one battered couch in the corner; the rest of the room was filled with canvases of all sizes. She moved from one to the other and realized that all of them were incomplete . . . incomplete, but revealing a rare touch of beauty.
"Why don't you finish them?" she asked innocently.
Amiee remained silent, watching Jason, who walked to a table that held a bottle of brandy. He poured a drink, drank it, then turned to face Charity.
"They aren't good enough to finish. Perhaps if I had the right model I just might complete one."
"Jason," Amiee said warningly.
"What say you, Miss Gilbert?" He bowed toward Charity. "Do you want yours to be the first completed portrait by Jason Desmond?"
"No," Charity replied softly. "I might not
be good enough to finish. If I posed for an artist, I wouldn't expect him to do half a job . . . unless that was all he could do."
There was a long moment of silence, and then Jason threw back his head and laughed. "Where did you find this creature, Amiee? She's refreshing."
"The same place you were found, my friend," Amiee replied. "Now, you promised to show me the one you just started, the one you promised to finish."
"Won't work. Sorry to disappoint you, but the girl just wasn't right."
"Jason."
"Don't worry about me, Amiee," he said quietly, "and stop mothering me. Let me take both you lovely ladies to lunch."
Before lunch, Jason stopped with them to see a few of his friends. They spent a delightful morning and enjoyed lunch, but throughout Charity was watching Jason and she sensed a feeling of unhappiness in him. On their way home she asked Amiee about him.
"Jason," she said thoughtfully. "Well, he comes from a rich family."
"Rich! Then why ever is he living where he is?"
"Some sort of problem in the family. He's the youngest of six boys, and when his father died, the estate all went to his older brother. It seems they didn't see eye to eye. Jason has just enough money to live on, and so . . . he paints."
"But he doesn't . . . he just starts to."
"Jason has to work out his own problems. One day he'll finish a painting. Maybe then he'll get his life sorted out. Until then"she looked at Charity with a grim look"his life is his business, like yours is yours. And, Charity, he's not quite as . . . gentlemanly as you might think. Be careful."
"I'm not interested in that sort of trouble at the moment, in fact at any moment."
"You have plans, do you?"
"I certainly have. I'm saving every coin, except what I have to contribute to the Round. I'm going to make something of myself if it kills me."
"Just what are you going to make?" Amiee laughed.
"A lady, with my own house and servants and everything I want whenever I want it."
