for?”
I shook my head.
“New tail, then?”
That, I understood. I sensed her competitive spirit despite the fact there seemed to be no client in the room. “No mum, at least for the time being. I live here, in the next room. And now, tell me, what is your story?” I wondered if her client had left her, in which case, her worries had only just begun. I have heard the whippings Madam Spencer administers to those who betray her generosity.
“Please don’t tell her, you must promise me.”
Her pale blue eyes were rimmed with dark circles against her fair skin. They pleaded with me most desperately.
“I promise, but tell me, what has happened? I heard your weeping and I came to see if your trick had hurt you.”
She shook her head, administering the silky movement of her blond curls over her shoulders, skinny and frail as they were. Still I was stuck with a measure of envy that she still possessed her curls.
“It is my first time,” she whispered, her eyes glued to the partially open door. “He has gone down the hall to the water closet and will be back soon.”
She wiped her cheeks free from her tears as I eased down to sit beside her on the bed. “Do you have nowhere else you might go?”
Again, she shook her head and a sweet scent wafted near my nose, reminding me of the rose arbor at the orphanage. She was clearly frightened. I placed my hand on her knee, keenly aware that I’d had no physical contact with another human being since Ernest. The sensation after months sent a shiver up my arm and I pulled away quickly. “Perhaps if you picture a pleasant thought it will help?”
She glanced at my posture, my arms hugging myself as though afraid to get too close. Her gaze lifted to mine.
“Do you think it would help?”
I could not say with absolute certainty, but I knew she had no place else to go. This is our common ground. “We do what we must to survive.”
She appeared to consider my words carefully, slowly nodding in agreement.
“My name is Betsy. Why do you wear your hair so terribly short? It looks much like a man.”
She tipped her head and her curious gaze followed her fingers as she sifted through the short hair above my ear. I closed my eyes at the sheer intimacy of human contact.
“It was a suggestion given to me while I was on the streets, for protection mainly, as I await my Ernest to arrive. I found work here from the pub owner, who thinks I am a young lad.” My gaze snapped to hers. “I pray you will not reveal my secret to him?”
She shook her head. “Not if you keep mine. Our circumstances dire as they are, would require most certainly that we help one another, wouldn’t you agree?”
I nodded, relaxing a bit, as I let my hands ease from my arms. “I am trying to save as much as I can in order to purchase a small flat. Ernest is a poet.” I smiled at the memory of his dark head bowed as he read to me. Where are you, Ernest? Why have you not come to me as you promised?
“How very brave of you to come to London alone with only the hope that he would join you.”
I glanced up at her sweet, innocent smile. Indeed, it was genuine, yet there was in her gaze a deep unhappiness no innocence could hide.
“I had a true love, once, or thought I did. His name was Frank…my fiancé. However, his gaze wandered and he left me for another woman shortly after we announced our engagement publicly. It wasn’t as though I loved him really, our marriage was arranged, nearly from birth—true aristocratic lineage and all that. My father and his felt it a splendid agreement, in order to keep the business secure between the two families. The problem they didn’t consider was that we did not care for each other.”
She lowered her hands as the memory of her own tragic story caused her voice to trail off.
“What happened?”
“Oh, well, my mother was mortified of course, and Frank’s mother encouraged her strongly that it was I who betrayed Frank, and not the other way around.
I shook my head.
“New tail, then?”
That, I understood. I sensed her competitive spirit despite the fact there seemed to be no client in the room. “No mum, at least for the time being. I live here, in the next room. And now, tell me, what is your story?” I wondered if her client had left her, in which case, her worries had only just begun. I have heard the whippings Madam Spencer administers to those who betray her generosity.
“Please don’t tell her, you must promise me.”
Her pale blue eyes were rimmed with dark circles against her fair skin. They pleaded with me most desperately.
“I promise, but tell me, what has happened? I heard your weeping and I came to see if your trick had hurt you.”
She shook her head, administering the silky movement of her blond curls over her shoulders, skinny and frail as they were. Still I was stuck with a measure of envy that she still possessed her curls.
“It is my first time,” she whispered, her eyes glued to the partially open door. “He has gone down the hall to the water closet and will be back soon.”
She wiped her cheeks free from her tears as I eased down to sit beside her on the bed. “Do you have nowhere else you might go?”
Again, she shook her head and a sweet scent wafted near my nose, reminding me of the rose arbor at the orphanage. She was clearly frightened. I placed my hand on her knee, keenly aware that I’d had no physical contact with another human being since Ernest. The sensation after months sent a shiver up my arm and I pulled away quickly. “Perhaps if you picture a pleasant thought it will help?”
She glanced at my posture, my arms hugging myself as though afraid to get too close. Her gaze lifted to mine.
“Do you think it would help?”
I could not say with absolute certainty, but I knew she had no place else to go. This is our common ground. “We do what we must to survive.”
She appeared to consider my words carefully, slowly nodding in agreement.
“My name is Betsy. Why do you wear your hair so terribly short? It looks much like a man.”
She tipped her head and her curious gaze followed her fingers as she sifted through the short hair above my ear. I closed my eyes at the sheer intimacy of human contact.
“It was a suggestion given to me while I was on the streets, for protection mainly, as I await my Ernest to arrive. I found work here from the pub owner, who thinks I am a young lad.” My gaze snapped to hers. “I pray you will not reveal my secret to him?”
She shook her head. “Not if you keep mine. Our circumstances dire as they are, would require most certainly that we help one another, wouldn’t you agree?”
I nodded, relaxing a bit, as I let my hands ease from my arms. “I am trying to save as much as I can in order to purchase a small flat. Ernest is a poet.” I smiled at the memory of his dark head bowed as he read to me. Where are you, Ernest? Why have you not come to me as you promised?
“How very brave of you to come to London alone with only the hope that he would join you.”
I glanced up at her sweet, innocent smile. Indeed, it was genuine, yet there was in her gaze a deep unhappiness no innocence could hide.
“I had a true love, once, or thought I did. His name was Frank…my fiancé. However, his gaze wandered and he left me for another woman shortly after we announced our engagement publicly. It wasn’t as though I loved him really, our marriage was arranged, nearly from birth—true aristocratic lineage and all that. My father and his felt it a splendid agreement, in order to keep the business secure between the two families. The problem they didn’t consider was that we did not care for each other.”
She lowered her hands as the memory of her own tragic story caused her voice to trail off.
“What happened?”
“Oh, well, my mother was mortified of course, and Frank’s mother encouraged her strongly that it was I who betrayed Frank, and not the other way around.
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