Death and the Harlot

by Death

  ‘Here you are, Mr Reed, a familiar face for you beneath the mask. Miss Hardwicke was only telling us earlier how much she had enjoyed your company yesterday. I am sure that she will take care of you – for the whole evening, should you wish it.’

  I did not wish it. I was looking forward to spending time with Charles. Even one of the other men might be preferable. Joshua Winchcombe, perhaps.

  Mrs Farley was at the table ladling soup, encouraging the company to eat and Mr Reed, who hardly needed a meal, took me by the hand and led me to the table. I could see Charles in a dark corner of the room with his hands under someone’s skirts; one of the Hardy girls. He had no intention of sitting for dinner.

  In the meantime, I had a job to do. Emily had unkindly made sure that I sat down with Mr Reed, which meant that I was unable to leave him easily. I kept my feelings to myself, tucking away my thoughts about Charles and, instead, attending to the man I was with, heaping beef on to his plate and pouring his burgundy in as bright a fashion as possible.

  In between mouthfuls of drink and food, George Reed decided to entertain me with stories of Norwich, of his business transactions from earlier that day in the city and of his journey to our home.

  ‘D’ you know, Miss Hardwicke, that it is possible to take a carriage all the way out to Kensington now? There are new houses being built far and away to the west. You ladies may yet need to move to keep up with the fashionable people.’

  A good hostess, I confessed myself astonished by his information – as if it had never occurred to me that houses might be built as the population of London grew larger.

  From the other side of the table, Polly threw me a sympathetic look as Reed leaned across to help himself to more food. Her own companion was Mr Herring, who sat stroking her delicate collarbone, entranced, as she nibbled a pastry.

  Mr Reed, delving into a mountain of syllabub, was still talking loudly about house building an hour later, even as others were engaging themselves in more amorous adventures. Quarters of the room around us seemed to be shuddering and grunting. Polly had disappeared. I tried to ignore the sight of Charles’ backside heaving into a pile of petticoats.

  Mrs Farley laid a hand on my shoulder. Putting her mouth to my ear she spoke quietly.

  ‘Why don’t you take Mr Reed to the side room, Lizzie? I think that his conversation would be better elsewhere.’

  It was an instruction rather than a suggestion. He was out of place and she wished me to take him away. This was my punishment for inviting him in the first place. I guessed that Emily would have told her.

  I nodded. I understood my duty to the other guests, as well as to Mr Reed. When he paused to take a breath, I took his sweaty hand and spoke urgently.

  ‘Mr Reed, dear sir, I made you a promise yesterday evening and I think that it’s time I honoured it.’

  He looked at his hand and then up at me.

  ‘Miss Hardwicke, I would be delighted.’ He suddenly became aware of the rest of the room – and what was taking place in it. I couldn’t understand why he hadn’t noticed it before.

  ‘My goodness. All of this. My word.’ He wiped his mouth; a troubled look on his face. ‘Are we to exert ourselves here?’

  I shook my head gently.

  ‘No Mr Reed, for our very special guests we have other rooms. Something more private. Come.’

  Chapter Six

  The floorboards creaked as I led him along the landing, but not loudly enough to cover the sound of him belching.

  I hoped with passion that he would spend most of the evening asleep once I was done.

  The smaller room was lit softly with candles. Dim light usually makes even the ugliest man bearable, but in this case, I thought the room still far too bright.

  He slumped into a chair that barely contained his frame, pulled off his mask and unbuttoned his waistcoat. His belly, until now contained in the finely-embroidered fabric, sank into a great mound over his thighs. I began to undress slowly – close enough for him to see, but far enough away to make it impossible for him to grab me. Not that he looked capable of getting out of the chair.

  The sounds of satisfied lust could be heard not too far away. Someone was having a pleasant time. He heard it too.

  I was down to my shift and could put off the dreadful prospect no longer.

  ‘Would you like to stay in your chair, sir, or shall we move to the couch?’

  He gestured that he would remain where he was, so I moved to him and straddled his knees. His breathing became laboured.

  ‘I can’t.’ He was barely audible. ‘I really don’t think I can.’ Despite yesterday’s faith in his capabilities, his face was a picture of embarrassment. ‘I think, I really think that… it is the wine, you know.’

  ‘Don’t worry, sir, I’m certain I can help. It happens to a lot of gentlemen, you know, especially when they have drunk and eaten well.’

  I did my best for a good amount of time, but not the sound of fornication elsewhere nor the sight of me stretched across his lap was going to arouse this old man who had over-filled his belly. We both knew it.

  He looked at my breasts, barely inches from his nose. He touched one, sadly.

  ‘Miss Hardwicke, you are a beautiful young lady, but I regret I’m not quite in the mood to enjoy you again.’

  ‘Hush, sir, do not distress yourself.’ I was beginning to feel a little sorry for him.

  ‘You may dress again, if you wish.’

  I did, and then sat at the end of the couch, wondering what to do. I waited for what seemed like a very long time. Perhaps he was asleep. I heard him clear his throat, snort and swallow, and tried not to shudder.

  Mrs Farley had taken payment from the guests already. She would have made a good profit before they were halfway into the hallway. It was up to us to earn our own money from the evening. If I was going to make anything at all, I had to entertain him in some way.

  ‘We could have a game of cards?’

  ‘That would be pleasant.’ He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead. ‘But I would be very grateful, Miss Hardwicke, if you didn’t mention this situation to your friends. There are many fine young gentlemen in the other room. I would be very distressed if any of them knew about my… weakness.’

  The appearance of manly vigour was essential to this self-important merchant. He did not wish to be sniggered at for his inadequacy.

  I nodded. I might, after all, be able to part him from some coin at another opportunity, if I behaved with kindness now.

  ‘What weakness would that be, sir?’

  He opened his mouth to clarify, but then shut it and smiled.

  ‘Good girl. Thank you.’

  I stood up and rubbed my hands together; affecting a breeziness I didn’t feel. ‘We have a card table in here, Mr Reed. Now let’s see what we’d like to play.’

  There was, indeed, a table, and four chairs, but there were no cards. I hunted around but couldn’t find any. Muttering in annoyance, I took a candle and left the room to find some. This was not the evening I had hoped for. I wondered how Amelia was faring in the attic – and what she could hear from the floors below.

  Trying to ignore the sights that greeted me in the brighter, livelier room I plucked a pack of cards from a side table and turned to leave. Even Mrs Farley was engaged, I could see. No one else would need a deck of cards tonight.

  A wide-eyed girl, who should have been safely tucked up in her room, stood in the doorway.

  I tried to shoo her out, but she was fixed to the spot; fascination, horror, incredulity over her face. I pulled her aside, but she broke away to stand staring at them all. Amelia Blackwood’s mouth began to open and close like a landed fish and soundless questions emerged like bubbles.

  ‘Lizzie? What…? Who…?’

  She was in grave danger of upsetting the whole evening.

  I tugged her away again, hissing in her ear.

  ‘Don’t. Don’t say a word. Come with me.’

/>   I pushed her along the landing forgetting for a moment that George Reed was waiting for me.

  ‘Get back upstairs, you silly cat. Pay no heed to what you saw. Just go away and keep out of sight.’

  ‘Lizzie, does this happen often? Is this what you do all day, all night?’

  ‘Of course it’s what we do. There’s no money in hat-making. You’re living in a brothel.’

  I took her by the shoulders.

  ‘It’s not so bad really. We look out for each other. We’re warm and well fed. It’s better than being on the street.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Is this what I will be expected to do?’

  It was time to be honest.

  ‘Well, if you stay here then yes, it is. We have servants. We don’t need another maid, but a pretty young girl is always welcome at Mrs Farley’s parties.’

  ‘I can’t. I really cannot.’ She began to sob – quietly at first, but then in deep, loud gulps of noise.

  ‘No one will force you, Amelia, but you have limited choices.’

  We might have continued our conversation quietly, perhaps in her room at a later hour, without causing a commotion or interrupting the evening’s entertainment. But Mr Reed, who was obviously wondering by now what had happened to me, had stumbled out onto the landing. Perhaps the rest had refreshed him, because, despite his earlier embarrassment with me, the sight of a tearful Amelia was having an all-too-obviously arousing effect.

  ‘Miss Hardwicke, who is your very pretty friend?’ Amelia’s sobbing was more appealing than my nakedness? I tried not to be affronted.

  ‘This is Miss Blackwood, Mr Reed, and she is a temporary guest in our house. I apologise for the disturbance. I will escort her back to her room and then return.’ I brandished the deck of cards. ‘I’ll be ready to play in a just few minutes, sir.’

  But Mr Reed was far more interested in Amelia than in cards, even as she was shrinking further and further into my shoulder. His eyes danced over her slender body, as if she were a morsel at the table. There are some men – I have met them – who become over-excited by the scent of fresh meat. Mr Reed, I realised with alarm, was one of them. And whatever had happened with Tommy Bridgewater in the barn, Amelia Blackwood was, without doubt, the nearest to virginal that we had under our roof. I had to get her away from him.

  ‘No, don’t take her away. I would very much like her company.’

  ‘Mr Reed, I am afraid that Miss Blackwood is not available this evening.’ I pulled her behind me.

  ‘Oh, come, Miss Hardwicke, surely for the right price she is, else why is she here?’ He barged me out of the way, a big man, powered by newly-awakened lust. Amelia began to scream. I pummelled Reed about the shoulders, but this had little effect as he took hold of her.

  Ma appeared on the landing, hair dishevelled but with her skirts and petticoats in order, as Mr Reed tried to claim his prize. I couldn’t tell whether she was angrier with him, with me or Amelia. The other guests, unhooked from one another and in various states of undress, joined her to see what the commotion was about.

  Gentlemen do not, as a rule, behave rudely or loudly in our house, but the other men, already upset at having to halt their passion, now began to upbraid him for his appalling manners. Amelia’s feelings were not considered, of course.

  Mr Reed, still holding her hand, began appealing to Mrs Farley’s basest financial instinct. None of us saw Tommy until he was suddenly there.

  ‘Let go of that lady, sir.’

  ‘Tommy!’ Amelia seemed as surprised as the rest of us to see him.

  Where had he been hiding? Had he stolen into the attic, disobeying Mrs Farley’s orders? Or had one of the servants taken pity on him and offered him a floor for the night? Whichever it was, he was now standing, shaking with fury in our midst.

  ‘I said, let go of the lady, sir.’

  ‘I will not. Who are you to come in the way of my business?’

  ‘She has no business with you, that’s all I know!’ Tommy launched himself at Mr Reed and began beating him about the head and shoulders while Amelia shrieked for him to stop. Reed’s wig fell off. The gentlemen, some with their breeches flapping open, ran to pull him away and all was a turmoil of yelling and punching until Mrs Farley’s voice of authority prevailed.

  ‘Get that man out of my house. Now!’

  She may have meant Tommy, but the young men were happier to eject Mr Reed and pushed and carried him off downstairs, some of them, incredibly, still in masks. I ran down with them, Mrs Farley was galloping behind, bellowing to Sydney to open the front door.

  There was a pause on the step. A moment of calm. Reed was laughing. He was actually laughing as he stood, about to be ejected on to the street, as if it were all a huge joke.

  ‘I know who you are, Tommy boy,’ he laughed. ‘I know!’

  They threw him out and closed the door. We could hear him shouting for a time, about Tommy, about the disgraceful depravity of our house, about the injury to his dignity.

  Sydney opened the door and threw his wig and hat into the road, before closing the door firmly again.

  Mrs Farley looked at me with murder in her eyes. I had brought disgrace to her house and I would not be allowed to forget it.

  The party was over. The girls had dressed themselves and were bidding Mrs Hardy’s ladies a good night in subdued tones. Amelia and Tommy had escaped upstairs – rightly judging that we had seen too much of them for one evening. The gentlemen kissed the ladies but made it clear that they were now stirring themselves for beer or gaming houses and they begged their leave of us.

  ‘I’ll deal with you in the morning,’ was all that Mrs Farley said to me. I only hoped that I would not find myself homeless and friendless come dawn. I was certainly not going to be paid for my efforts.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘I fear two consequences of last night’s upset.’ Mrs Farley sipped from her new porcelain teacup, the picture of severity and refinement and a world away from the old whore I had seen last night with her skirts around her neck. ‘The first is that I will be accused of keeping a disorderly house and we will have to close. The second is that the fine gentlemen such as we entertained here will stay away.’

  I stood before her, contrite. The girls, I knew, would be eavesdropping at one door or another. Mrs Farley probably knew it too, but she didn’t mince her words. The teacup made a delicate chink as it touched the saucer. It was a very fine set.

  ‘Frankly, I don’t know which is the worse of those two evils. If you were not such a hardworking girl and so good for my business I would throw you on to the street for inviting Mr Reed here without permission.’

  I held my tongue. I wished I hadn’t invited him either.

  She smoothed her gown over her knees and looked up at me with a hard face. Mrs Farley was a generous landlady and the rules of her house were fair and, compared to many, she exercised remarkably little control over her girls. In some places they were little more than slaves; we enjoyed great freedom in our choices. But she was, first and foremost, a business woman and would decide my fate based on her pecuniary interests.

  ‘I will not have the reputation of this house besmirched. Any man you bring home must have my approval before he enters your room. And any man I choose for you must be entertained with courtesy.’

  I nodded. I could hardly be accused of ever displaying discourtesy, but I knew that she needed to wield some power over me now.

  ‘Yes, Mrs Farley.’

  She fretted with a strand of hair that had worked its way loose, trying to tuck it back into her cap.

  ‘Mr Reed’s outburst on the street last night may have done us a great harm among our neighbours, Lizzie. Only time will tell, but I fear that some will see this as an opportunity to call in the law.’

  ‘We have good neighbours, Mrs Farley. They know us and watch out for us, as a rule.’

  ‘The tides are turning. Some people in London would prefer it if our way of life came to a complete en
d. I heard of a house in Covent Garden only last week that was closed down for being disorderly. I once thought it one of the most genteel in that part of town.’

  Covent Garden was a pit of vice. The only thing genteel about the bawdy houses was that the girls condescended to wear clothes when they left their front doors. It was different here in Soho, but I could sense that she was anxious.

  ‘The gentlemen will still come, Mrs Farley. The decent gentlemen come here for soft voices and conversation as well as for anything else. What happened last night was a shock – for which I am, madam, truly sorry and ashamed.’

  She sniffed and pulled herself upright, nodding at me. My ordeal was over, at least for now.

  ‘What will happen to Amelia?’

  Her face softened. She wasn’t without heart. The girl had been offended and frightened.

  ‘I have given her until the end of the week to make up her mind. I can’t keep her for any longer if she is not prepared to pay her dues. Her young man is still out looking for work.’

  There was a sharp rap at the door. One of the servants came in – even before being bid. Her eyes were wide as the porcelain saucer. Mrs Farley stood up sharply, about to reprimand her.

  ‘Mrs Farley, Sydney has just brought news.’ Old Sarah was breathless.

  Were we to be closed down already?

  ‘There’s a dead body been found at the White Horse, Mrs Farley. Mr Stanford is there…’

  ‘Charles? Is he injured?’

  ‘No, Miss Hardwicke. It was he that got word to Sydney. They think it’s that man from last night, Mr Reed.’

  Mrs Farley put a hand to her mouth and sank back onto her chair. Sarah rushed to her as I, ignoring everything that Ma had just said to me, dashed off to the Bardwell’s to see what was going on.

  Chapter Eight

  It was less chaotic inside the White Horse than I had expected. Men and women, who only recently had been pleasantly drunk were now sobering up quickly. One, still intoxicated, was barking for the magistrate, the landowner, the undertaker; in fact, anyone who could tell him exactly what had happened. His companion called for the same because he swore he knew the answer. Anne Bardwell was shooing them towards the door, even as I was trying to enter. A serving girl moved quietly, collecting the empty tankards.