Avalon Revamped

by O. M. Grey

  A quaint alcove lay just beyond the doorway where McFerret spoke with another man. He saw me, and his eyes lit up, almost surprised. His bristly mustache broadened with his smile. “Would you excuse us, sir? I have urgent business with this lady.”

  The other gentleman nodded and gave a slow, deliberate wink to McFerret, and then laughed when he looked at me. “Fanks for the autograph, sir,” he said as he grabbed his pint and his signed copy of The Times as he scooted out of the alcove, chuckling again when he passed me.

  “Charlotte. I must say, I’m quite impressed you got here.” He motioned for me to sit beside him, so I did. He leaned in a little too close, and continued, “Your determination and bravery are astounding. That’s good, because that’s what you need, that and ambition, to make it in the newspaper business. To make it as a writer anywhere, especially with the hindrance of your gender, my darling. You must be shrewd and clever. Ambition! Perseverance! Courage! Yes, courage. You’ve got that in spades as well, don’t you, my dear.”

  “What was that at the ball, William? You treated me like your mistress, and I was quite clear about this remaining professional. I shan’t be reduced to a trollop, sir.”

  “Of course not! I’m offended that you would think such a thing, as that was exactly what I was protecting you from at the ball, Charlotte. Truly offended. I was thinking of your honor, and you accuse me of… My wife was there, as you know, as was all of her close friends who love to gossip and make trouble where there is none.” He chuckled and swirled the Gin in his glass, then continued, “They excel at it. A young pretty lady talking to me as familiar as you have a tendency to do, and as frankly. It would be half across London by now had I indulged in any conversation with you at that party. Really, Charlotte, I thought you were smarter than that. Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea after all.” He sipped his drink and looked away from me, face full of mock disappointment and offense.

  The games had begun.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. McFerret. I spoke out of turn, sir. You have been nothing but a complete gentleman and professional from the start, and I truly appreciate what you’re doing for me sir. I truly do!” Determined to push me further into desperation, McFerret let the silence between us linger as the voices of men singing in the back courtyard wafted in through the thin paneled walls and thick, smoky window.

  “I don’t know. You’re behaving like a child.”

  “I’m not a child, Mr. McFerret. You’ve read my work. You know I have talent.”

  “Of that there’s no doubt, but—” He shook his head, looking down into his drink. I couldn’t help but notice that the painting of a drunken, bloated monk held a striking resemblance to the drunken, bloated journalist who sat beneath it.

  “Please, sir. Give me another chance.”

  “I can’t talk work now. I’m too distressed and distracted by this nonsense.” He finished off the amber liquid in the bottom of his glass. “I’m getting another Gin. Drink? I’ll buy.”

  “I—I don’t drink, sir. I mean, I wouldn’t know what to get.”

  “Gin. Always Gin. It’s the drink of writers. Get used to it.” He held up two fingers, getting the attention of a passing barmaid. “Two. In fact, bring the bottle. We’re not to be disturbed, understand?”

  Although young, about twenty, the woman looked quite worn. Stray strands of dark hair fell about her face, and although she smiled, there was no delight in her eyes. Dead, killed, more like. Hollowed out by the pain that emanated from her in waves, making me nauseous. I focused on McFerret’s bushy jawline, looking away from the barmaid, trying to put up a barrier between us.

  “A-course, sir. Anyfink for you, gov. Two comin’ up.” Her voice was pleasant enough and she smiled with as much sweetness as she could muster. My nausea rose, but she left to get more liquor before I had to excuse myself.

  So much pain, all over. Everywhere I went. There just wasn’t enough time.

  “You see, Charlotte, that’s the kind of treatment you can look forward to. Once your name is known, people will be falling over themselves to serve you, to help you.”

  “Well, I don’t care about that. I just want to write.”

  “Don’t we all.” He got a faraway look, then threw back his Gin. “Where’s that damn barmaid?” he said, slamming his glass down on the table.

  “What did you think of my article?”

  “It could use some work, but it’s a fine start. A fine start.”

  The barmaid arrived with two fresh glasses and a bottle of Gin. “Any fink else for you, sir?”

  “Not at the moment. In fact, we are not to be disturbed. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir. Fank you, sir.” She took his dirty glass and left.

  McFerret poured me two fingers of Gin and himself four. “To the written word,” he said, holding his glass up. I picked up mine and clinked with his.

  “The written word,” I repeated. He swallowed his in one go. As he poured another for himself, he saw that I had not yet touched mine.

  “Well, drink up. What are you waiting for? If you’re going to be a working writer in this town, you had better learn to drink. Drink up!”

  I sipped, grimacing as I did. Of course, this wasn’t the first time I had Gin, but it was Charlotte’s first time and so it was mine, too. Quite literally. It was this tongue’s first time to taste the bitterness and bite, so the grimace was real. When I created a persona, I became that new person: body, mind, and soul. Although my thoughts were still in there and I knew what I was doing, hers were, too. It was like my mind was split with me in the background, guiding. Remaining grounded. Keeping reality in mind, but the innocence of the personas I played was real, too. It had to be for these kinds of men. They sensed prey, so I had to become prey.

  McFerret laughed at me and clinked glasses again. “That’s my girl,” he said, eyes sparkling. “Now, onto business.” He poured himself another and held the bottle over my glass until I forced down the Gin, enabling him to refill it.

  My body shuddered as the drink burned my throat and sat heavy in my stomach.

  McFerret laughed again.

  “I’ve arranged a meeting with the editor on the Pearson’s dirigible cruise this weekend. I’ve procured you a ticket again, and there’s money in there for a new dress as well. You can’t wear the same one you did tonight, not in this society, although you look stunning in it, my darling.” He pulled an envelope out of his inner pocket and slid it in front of me. His eyes trailed down my neck, over my collar bones, and rested on my décolletage. I opened the envelope, and his eyes bore into my breasts, thinking, no doubt, that mine were on the envelope and didn’t notice what he was doing, but they weren’t.

  They watched his every move.

  He licked his lips, then sucked down another four fingers, never taking his eyes off the tops of my breasts.

  “This is quite generous,” I said. “Thank you for all your help, Mr. McFerret. I don’t know how to repay you your kindness to me. Your belief in me.”

  “We’ll think of something,” he said, laying his hand over mine, raising his eyes to meet mine. After the worm patted my hand a few times in a way that made my insides squirm, he poured himself more Gin and indicated that I should finish mine again.

  “I truly must be careful, sir. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. It is my first time, after all. I’d rather not be sick. How humiliating that would be, indeed.”

  “Nonsense. We have to harden you up, my dear. It’s a tough business, and you are still too soft. Although,”—he caught me with his wily eyes and flashed his sly smile, dragging a finger across my thumb—“soft is good, too.”

  I picked up my glass, pulling my hand out of his reach. “The meeting is set for Saturday night? That’s Christmas Eve. Isn’t that a strange time to meet? I’m sure Mr. Chenery doesn’t wish to work on Christmas Eve.”

  “There you go questioning me again!” His voice wasn’t in the least bit cross, though. He spoke with a huge grin and a twinkle
in his eyes, amused if anything. “Are you going to trust me in this, Charlotte? This is how it must be done, at least for now. It can’t be done during regular business hours, darling. This is altogether unconventional all around. It will be fine. It’s just an introductory meeting, after all. But remember, it will have to be in private, as my wife, and his, will be on board, too. It is a party, after all, so discretion is imperative. This will be your first big break! I have no doubt Chenery will be as impressed with you as I am.”

  “I shall buy a smart dress, worthy of a journalist of The Times.” I raised my glass and clinked with his, then forced it down, coughing afterward.

  “That’s my girl,” he said again. “That’s my good, good girl.”

  “Pardon me, but I must visit the powder room.” Upon rising, I felt woozy and had to catch myself on the table or I would’ve fallen right back down.

  McFerret laughed again. “Easy there, my darling. Maybe you have had enough for one night. We’ll work on your ability to hold alcohol on the cruise.”

  “I feel rather ill, sir. Is this normal?”

  “It is. It will pass. Let’s get you some fresh air.” As he stood, his walrus belly hit the edge of the table and knocked over the bottle of Gin, nearly empty anyway. The neck shattered when it hit my glass, which also broke. “Damn it all!”

  “I’ll get the barmaid,” I said, feeling a little steadier.

  “No need.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, tossing several onto the table before offering his hand to help me out of the alcove. He picked up my wrap and draped it over my back. His belly pressed against my bustle, and my stomach turned again. He was a handsome man, after all, and although shaped like a sea mammal, larger in the middle and tapering off on both ends, it didn’t take away from his good looks. Even the strong jaw worked on him, especially adorned with those furry, dark sideburns.

  Oh my, was this the Gin talking?

  He led me out into the nippy air, and the cold sobered me up quite quickly. I turned back to McFerret, and he was looking down at his pocket watch.

  “Damn it all,” he said again. “It’s later than I thought. I’ve got to get back to the missus, and I was so hoping for an evening stroll together, to talk writing, of course. I’m quite curious about your process. Your prose is inspired, Charlotte.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Ferret.”

  “As I’ve told you before, call me Willie, my darling.” He leaned in for a kiss, and I let him peck my lips once before pushing him away. His mustache prickled my nose.

  “Mr. Ferret—Willie—professional, remember? It’s not that I find you repulsive, sir. Far from that, but it’s just not proper. Besides, you’re married. I couldn’t do such a thing to another woman.”

  “Balderdash! My wife,” he snuffed, then took both my hands and backed me up against the brick wall, pressing his walrus belly into me. “I only married her for her money.” He leaned in for another kiss, pinning me against the wall, and this time I turned my head. His lips pressed against my cheek while the curled tips of his waxed mustache tickled my nose.

  “Sir,” I whispered. “Please.”

  Clearing his throat and backing away, he said, “Yes! Yes. You are right, Miss Sopha. Of course. It’s the Gin, after all. Forgive me.”

  “Already forgotten, Willie.”

  “Excellent! Let’s get you in a hansom straight away. I think we’ll both sleep well tonight! Yes, indeed. That Gin’s got a kick!”

  He led me down the dark alleyway back to the curb and kept a respectable distance the entire way. After finding me a hansom, he kissed my hand and held it as I mounted the carriage. He paid the driver, instructing him to ensure I was safely inside before riding off while I snuggled within my wrap, preparing for the cold ride.

  “Thank you again for arranging the meeting with Mr. Chenery. It will be such an honor to just meet the man, let alone entertain the thought of working with him. I’m all a flutter already!”

  “It will prove to be a splendid evening all around,” he said, tipping his hat. “Of that I have no doubt.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  ARTHUR

  Christmas shoppers scampered from here to there. Thomas wound the brougham through the busy streets, stopping again and again for people with their arms’ full of packages to cross the road. Other carriages blocked the street, trying to turn around or waiting for their occupants to return from the shop.

  “We should’ve walked,” I said to Avalon sitting beside me, but all I saw was her tiny black hat perched on her black curls. She looked out the window at the commotion around us. “It would’ve been faster.”

  “Perhaps,” she said.

  “It would’ve been faster.”

  “They all look so happy, rushing about, don’t they? Places to go and getting goodies for their lovelies. We should get some gifts, Arthur. Don’t you think?” She turned to me, her eyes lit with hope. “We could exchange them on the dirigible. Wouldn’t that be fine?”

  “If you’d like. One thing at a time, all right? We’re here to see about Nick, remember? Let’s get that done before we plan something else.”

  “Do you think the police will still be there? It’s been several days, after all.”

  “I doubt it, but if they are, you can practice pressing your will upon them. Compelling them, as we sometimes call it. Coppers are notoriously easy to compel, Ava. If all else fails, we do still have the uniforms dear Victor procured for us after our last caper.”

  With the reminder of Victor, Avalon got quiet again, her smiled faded. “I miss Victor.” The sadness in her voice was palpable and altogether disagreeable. How dull indeed, and how very careless for me to mention him.

  “Yes, I’m well aware. It has been months, Ava. You must move on from that loss one day.”

  “It’s been less than a year, Arthur. Barely half a year, and one doesn’t have one’s best friend and confidant brutally murdered before one’s eyes all that often. And you’re telling me to get over it already? What happened to you, Arthur? One minute you are my love, the man who I adore. The next, you are a monster. Unfeeling, uncaring. Cruel.”

  “Nonsense, Ava. I’m always the same.” My calm voice, with the appropriate amount of concern, of course, suggested she settle down and listen to reason. No need to be so emotional. “It’s no doubt your lady parts wreaking havoc on your mind, sweetheart. Perhaps you’re suffering from hysteria. Yes, the symptoms are quite similar. Perhaps I should call the doctor. I am worried about you, Ava. For all I know, you contracted a venereal disease from another man. You say I was the first, but an unmarried woman having sexual relations? It is questionable to say the least. Well, the doctor and Bedlam, too, would be suspicious of that. They haven’t yet repealed the Contagious Diseases Act, after all. Just a word from me, and you’d be required to submit to an exam, otherwise face imprisonment. The police do the exams, as you well know, and I understand they are far from pleasant. I would hate for you to be disgraced so, my darling girl. I just want you to be happy, Ava. To be well and genuinely happy. I’m just looking out for you, my love.”

  Avalon’s eyes widened with horror. All of London knew what happened to women examined for venereal diseases. Humiliating exams. Unclean women were confined until perceived as cured. Many wound up in Bedlam.

  The threat of such treatment served to keep them in line. Indeed.

  Tears rimmed her eyes, jaw set. She spoke with determination. “I am not your property.”

  No. Nor any man’s. Yet. With her new strength, she could rip any who tried to hurt her to shreds, but I’d done quite well to keep her ignorant of that fact.

  “You have been dropping hints about marriage. Lady York, yes, I think that suits you well. I just love you so much, Ava. I want to ensure you are feeling your best. I miss my happy, loving lover, and I would like her back. Genuinely happy. Yes. I should very much like my cheery, cheeky Ava back. Ah! Here we are at Nicholas’s. After you, my love.”

  Avalon to
ok my proffered hand and stepped down onto the street. “Thank you, Thomas,” she said with the most pleasant tone. Good girl. “It is such a pleasure to have you drive us. Will you wait for us here?”

  “That is up to M’Lord, M’Lady.”

  “Yes, Thomas. Wait. We shan’t be too long. Shall we, Ava? Looks like the coast is clear of coppers, so there should be no trouble whatsoever. No more trouble. Right, sweetheart?”

  “No more trouble, my love.” Her smile was not only bright and as genuine as could be, but she also leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. In public. Yes. This was much more like it. Just needed to put the foot down every so often, after all. Perhaps a wedding was just the thing. It had been ever so long since I was married. Over three centuries! Indeed! I had forgotten just how lovely marriage can be. Carnal pleasures whenever I wanted, no need to wait or search or put out the effort of seduction, but then…if I did find such pleasures elsewhere…well, it was to be expected! Especially by a man of my station. Yes! It was time to take a wife. Yes, indeed.

  “Lord York! Miss Bainbridge! Funny seein’ you here.”

  “Mr. Blackwolf, was it? Did you enjoy the gala last night?” His handshake was as strong as his husky appearance suggested. Dressed in much more comfortable attire than his relative finery of last night, he wore a standard-issue US Army shirt, braces, and wool trousers. Topped with a heavy wool coat and the same hat and goggles as at the gala. How very common.

  Avalon stayed obedient and quiet. Good girl. Just a silent nod greeted our new friend.

  “I did. I did. You do things up over here, don’t ya?”