by Claire Bott
Eventually, we reached the village, and walked through the darkened streets. There was only one point of light. As we came towards it, we saw that it was a large building, the doors and windows open to the warm summer night, golden light spilling out of them along with the sounds of laughter, conversation, enjoyment. It was an inn, the first I had ever seen. I would have shrunk back, afraid of so many people, but Lechasseur walked briskly to the door, and I followed.
Inside, the noise was even greater, the lights brighter than they had seemed outside. At the opening of the door, everyone in the bar glanced up briefly; and remained frozen, staring at the pair of us. The noise died. Innocent that I was, this reaction bewildered me. It was only later that I discovered that a man with dark skin is not welcome everywhere, and that this is particularly so among the ill-educated and the un-travelled. Assailed by a barrage of hostile stares, we made our way through the crowd to the bar at the back of the room.
There was a tall, lugubrious-faced man standing behind the bar, but he looked studiously away from us, as though he had not seen us come in; though I knew full well that he had.
Lechasseur leaned forwards to get his attention. ‘We need a room for the night.’
‘Not sellin’ nothin’ to no Blackamoor without cash down,’ the man snapped, still not looking at us.
Lechasseur reached for his pocket, then suddenly stopped. ‘Ah... I guess I don’t actually have any of your kind of money.’
‘Well then you can bloody well get out, you and your heathen ways. Or if yer won’t get out, move away from the bar so decent Christian folk can get served.’
We stepped to one side, and Lechasseur looked at me with a frown creasing his brow. ‘Damn. We could really use a room. We need to rest, or I do, anyhow.’
I looked around the bar. Most of the patrons were still watching us closely, though pretending not to. After a moment, I began to notice a difference between the way they looked at Lechasseur and the way they looked at me. For Lechasseur, their expressions held suspicion, tinged with more than a little fear When they turned their attention to me, I saw a gleam in their eyes that I recognised from long experience. Even if everything else was new and strange, there was one thing in this place that was familiar; desire. I understood desire. I knew what to do with it.
I looked about until I saw a well-dressed young man on his own. He looked more prosperous than most of the others there – perhaps the son of some local land-owner. Casually, I turned away from him, back towards the bar.
‘Honoré,’ I said quietly, ‘would you go over and sit by the fire, and try to look as though you have nothing to do with me?’
He stared at me. ‘What?’
‘Listen,’ I said, not looking at him, ‘Do you remember when I told you that I only knew about one thing? This is the thing I know about. Trust me, Honoré, please. Have I betrayed you yet?’
He hesitated a moment, then shrugged and did as I asked. I waited a moment, then went over to where the young man was sitting in the corner.
‘May I join your table?’ I asked.
He smiled broadly. ‘Certainly. My name is Adam. What is yours?’
I looked around the room in a panic. Behind the bar, I caught a glimpse of a stuffed white bird in a glass case, its wings outspread as though for flight. I turned back to Adam. ‘Dove. My name is Dove.’
He reached across the table to take my hand. ‘A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.’
Sir Edward, when he was in the mood for a slightly more exotic enjoyment even than the one I usually offered him, would often have me play out scenes for him. Whore and Customer was one of them. So I knew the things I should say, the poses I should take up. I knew them as well as I knew my own hands.
Lowering my gaze with a flutter of lashes, I murmured, ‘You are bold, sir.’
‘And yet, I notice you do not draw back.’
I looked up again, meeting his eyes briefly. ‘No, sir. I am not noted for drawing back.’
‘Tell me, what are you doing in this place? We do not often see – women such as you.’
‘I have had to leave my home town, due to scandal. I am travelling.’
‘And do you have a place to stay, tonight?’
I shook my head. ‘No, sir.’
‘Perhaps you would care to share a room with me?’
‘Perhaps I would. For a while. How would you persuade me to?’
He shifted deliberately on his stool. I heard the chink of a well-filled purse, and nodded. ‘Indeed, a most excellent persuasion. Shall we retire, sir?’
For answer, he rose to his feet and went over to the bar. I saw money change hands, and then he came back over to me. ‘Will you come up to the room I have arranged for us, lovely Dove?’
I followed him up the stairs.
Afterwards, I lay beside Adam while he counted coins into my hand. I looked at them as he did so, marvelling at the solid chink of them. I had never earned money before. The fantasy of Whore and Customer had always ended before the payment part was reached. But now, I had earned money. By my actions – the same actions that I had performed for Sir Edward, with no wage at all – I had won these bright coins in my hand. I folded my fingers closed on them.
‘Thank you, sir,’ I said.
He shook his head. ‘Thank you. That was – amazing.’
We lay a moment in silence, then he rose and dressed. ‘I must get back. My mother will worry.’
‘And she would be right to,’ I murmured. He laughed. ‘As you pass through the barroom,’ I added, ‘Could you tell the man I came in with to come up to this room?’
‘Assuredly. Is he your bawd?’
I knew enough, from the games I had played with Sir Edward, to understand that word, and I knew enough of Lechasseur to know how far it was from anything he was, or ever could be. But, after all, how could I explain to Adam what the truth was? ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘He is my bawd.’
Adam grinned, and left the room.
I rose and dressed. I was re-lacing my bodice when I heard footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later Lechasseur entered.
‘I have a name, now,’ I said to him. ‘I chose it myself. My name is Dove.’
He nodded curtly, and went over to the window, where he stood looking out.
I tried again. ‘Dove is who I am, Honoré. I decided on that name. It is my name, now. I chose it.’
Still he said nothing.
‘Honoré?’
‘That young guy leered at me,’ he said, not turning, in tones of suppressed outrage. He sounded angrier over that than he had over being locked in a cellar to starve.
I felt a moment’s remorse. I should not have told Adam that Lechasseur was my bawd; I ought to have foreseen that this kind of misunderstanding might occur. Then, unexpectedly, I felt a fire of anger begin to stir in me.
‘You are ungrateful, Honoré,’ I said quietly, ‘You have not thanked me for securing you this room. Nor have you said one word of thanks to me for saving your life, not on any of the three occasions when I did so.’
He did not turn from the window. ‘No. I suppose I haven’t.’
I clenched my fists. ‘Say thank you to me, Honoré, or I will have you turned out of my room.’
Now he did face me. ‘You can’t order me about like that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, you’re a –’ He hesitated.
‘A what?’
He was silent.
‘Honoré! What am I? I – I would like to know.’
‘Frankly,’ he burst out, ‘so would I. You’re supposed to be a machine, but you don’t talk like one, you don’t act like one –’ He broke off in frustration.
‘So – you do not know.’
‘No. I don’t.’ I could see the admission cost him something.
I hesitated a moment, then imp
ulsively drew out the small key that hung on a chain around my neck. ‘Do you see this?’
He nodded.
‘I have a small hole concealed in the roof of my mouth. Every few days, I wind myself up. That is all. I am clockwork. And perhaps that is the answer to your questions, and to mine – that I am clockwork, and nothing more.’ I concealed the key once more in my bodice, and made to turn away.
‘Dove?’
I looked back.
‘Thank you,’ Lechasseur said softly.
I gave him the money I had earned, so that he could go down and buy himself food in the taproom. When he came up again, I said, ‘You may have the bed. I do not sleep, in any case.’
He shrugged. ‘If you want. Like you said, it’s your room.’ He began to prepare for bed.
‘Honoré,’ I said suddenly, ‘where is Emily?’
He glanced at me. ‘I don’t know.’
I sat down on the bed. ‘But – she will be all right, will she not?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I think so. I hope so. She’s a resourceful young woman. But...’ his voice trailed to a halt.
I looked up at him. ‘You like her, do you not?’
He nodded. ‘Yes. We’re friends.’
‘Honoré, please tell me, what is liking like?’
He looked at me curiously, then slowly sat down beside me on the bed. ‘You really don’t know, do you?’
‘I do not. All I know is the acts Sir Edward used to ask of me.’
Lechasseur looked at me for a moment longer, then turned his eyes away, and began to speak. ‘Liking... well, its about... being concerned for a person. Wanting to have that person around because... well, you’re happier if they are. But really, right deep down, it’s about caring. And Dove,’ he turned to me again, ‘you do know about that. Or why else would you have let Emily and me out of the cellar?’
‘I... I wanted you to be alive. To stay alive. Not to be hurt.’
‘Exactly.’
‘But I didn’t even know you then.’
‘It’s not just about the people you know. Caring – is about everybody. Everybody who needs to be helped. Even if it hurts you, even if you get into trouble, you’ve got to do something if someone else is in danger. You can’t just sit by while people are getting hurt, or might be or will be hurt. You have to take part in life, or you aren’t really alive.’
When Lechasseur had fallen asleep, I found myself growing restless. The old, placid nights of watching the moon rise and set had left me forever, it seemed. I left the room, and descended to the taproom, which was dark and empty, stools stacked neatly on tables. I crept to the door, unlatched it, and stepped out onto the street.
Outside, it was a wild night, small clouds scudding across the moon. I wished I could feel the wind against my face. Even seeing the effects of it was glorious. I stretched out my arms in mute obeisance to the night.
‘Dove, is it?’ said a voice at my back, and I turned, startled. Behind me stood a young man, whom I recognised as having been in the taproom that evening. Like Adam, he was better dressed than most. Unlike him, he did not have the look of a local. He seemed like a man who belonged somewhere other than here. ‘I saw you descend the stairs, and thought I would follow you.’
‘Do you come from these parts, sir?’ I asked.
‘No. I’m a London man, here for a holiday from my work. But you hardly seem to be a native, yourself.’ He raised his brows, making the last sentence into a question.
I did not like him. There was something in his face that was obscurely distasteful. ‘What I am or am not is my own business,’ I said shortly, turning away from him.
He moved around me, so that we were again face to face. ‘Ah, but I have a proposition for you. One that you might find interesting.’
I shrugged. ‘What is it, then?’
He smiled, showing vulpine teeth. ‘I have always harboured a desire to make love in a moving carriage. Tomorrow, the weekly coach arrives in the village. I will offer the coachman a great deal of money to depart from his usual course and take me for a short – but not too short – ride across the downs. I will offer you a great deal of money to accompany me.’ He stepped back, and spread his hands.
I considered the offer. The small stock of coins that Adam had paid me was half exhausted from paying for Lechasseur’s meal. Breakfast would leave us penniless. If we were to live, we must get money in some way. ‘How much?’ I asked.
He smiled ‘Fifty pounds.’
I thought frantically. Was this a good offer? I remembered that Sir Edward had once shown me a fine gem that he had bought to use in manufacturing some automaton or other, and told me that it had cost him one hundred pounds.
‘Is that a lot of money, Sir Edward?’ I had asked him.
He had stroked my hair and smiled at me. ‘It is a great deal of money, my darling.’
So, fifty pounds... half a hundred pounds... half a great deal of money... and the man, now that I looked at him, wore an expression that said as plainly as words could that he expected me to be pleased and astounded by the offer. So it probably was a good offer, even a generous offer. And we were in need of money...
‘I accept,’ I said.
He smiled his fox-like smile. ‘Good. I’ll meet you by the halting post at ten o’clock sharp.’
‘Wait, sir,’ I called, as he turned back towards the inn. ‘You have not told me your name.’
‘Haven’t I? Well, it is Peter.’ Then he was gone. I stood outside for a moment, then went in, my relish for the wild night diminished.
The next morning, I explained the situation to Lechasseur. He did not like the fact that I had agreed.
‘Never mind about the money. What we need to do is to find Emily.’
I shook my head, exasperated. ‘Very well. We shall think of a plan to do so. Will that please you? And do you object terribly if, in the meantime, I try to ensure that we – or, at any rate, you – do not starve to death while we come up with this plan?’
He sighed. ‘All right. Let’s go.’
When we arrived at the halting-post, Peter was already there, waiting. ‘The coach will be along shortly, Dove. Does your companion wish to accompany us?’
Lechasseur glared at him, before turning on his heel and going to stand several paces away.
I smiled at Peter. ‘No,’ I said, ‘he does not.’
We waited in silence for the coach. Soon we saw the cloud of dust in the distance that heralded its approach, then the coach itself rumbled into view. The coachman pulled up, stepped down from his box, and tied his horses to the post. Several people descended from the interior, and walked off down the street chattering excitedly. Peter stepped up to the coachman, and murmured in his ear. I saw the glint of money passing from hand to hand. The coachman looked up at me, then back at Peter. He seemed to be about to refuse, but Peter took him by the buttonhole and drew him closer, murmuring again in his ear. More money passed between them. Finally, the coachman nodded, and Peter beckoned me over.
‘The deal is done, sweet Dove. Will you step inside?’
I took my leave of Lechasseur with a brief nod, and stepped up into the carriage. Peter stepped in after me, smiling like a fox.
Inside the carriage, Peter turned to me. ‘Before we set off, there is one more thing that would vastly increase my enjoyment. Would you object to being bound?’ He drew a stout length of rope from his pocket.
I hesitated.
‘I will double the money I shall pay you,’ Peter said tantalisingly.
I was very innocent then. I am wiser now, by dint of hard experience. If I had known... But I did not. I held out my wrists to him, and let him bind them. He tied the knot swiftly and deftly, then looked up at me, still smiling, holding my bound hands in his own.
‘To London!’ he shouted, and the coach took off with a
jerk. I tried to pull away, but he held me tightly.
‘London?’ I cried. ‘London was not in the bargain! Let me out – let me off!’
Peter only smiled more widely. ‘London was not in the bargain I made with you. But it was the main part of the bargain I made with the driver. The other part being that he should not stop till we reached the city, save for to rest the horses. I told you that I was on holiday from my trade. I did not tell you what that trade was. I am a procurer for a London brothel, Dove. I was impressed by your openly displayed talents in the taproom last night, and so made the necessary steps to secure your services. We shall be in London by sunset.’
I sank back against the seat, overcome. At a stroke, I was on my own again. It was a dreadful thought. If, at that moment, I could have returned to Sir Edward’s estate, never to leave again, I would have done so gladly.
The coach rattled on. Peter released my hands after a while, but kept a firm hold on the skirt of my gown. I stared out of the window, sunk in apathy, and watched the countryside sweep past outside. Even in my present plight, I could not help noting how much, how very much of it there was. I had thought that the downs Lechasseur and I had walked over to reach the town had been large, but the country seemed to go on and on, with no end to it. For hours we drove, and still the landscape swept by serenely on either side. It made me quite dizzy to imagine the amount of space there must be. I tried not to think about it.
I am Dove, I said silently to myself. My name is Dove. It was something to cling to; I had a name, I knew who I was. Peter had called me by my name, and I had gone to him, and been trapped... Names have power, I thought. Other people could use them against you, or you could use them yourself... I am Dove. My name is Dove. It was a handle to cling to, now that all else was taken away.
Finally, when the sun was beginning to sink, we reached London. If I had been dizzy before, I reeled now. All the people! I had not thought there could be so many people. But here they were, all thronging the streets, pouring past the carriage on all sides.
This was the moment when I could have escaped. Peter still held my gown, it is true, but nevertheless I could have cried out, could have bawled that I was being kidnapped, abducted. Perhaps it would not have helped me at all – but then, perhaps it would. Why, then, did I not call out? The simple answer is that I did not, in truth, wish to. After all, the duties of a brothel would not be onerous to me – there was nothing they could ask me to do that Sir Edward had not required of me a hundred times. And at least there I would be free of the need to care, to choose, to act, that had pressed in on me so hard since leaving Sir Edward’s estate. Perhaps I could sink back into placidity, perhaps I would be able to go back to the way I had been before all this had started, before Lechasseur and Emily had come. So though I parted my lips a little, I made no sound; and the carriage arrived at the brothel door with no interference from me.
