The Women of Nell Gwynne's by Kage Baker
Authors: Kage Baker
Tags: Fiction, Historical fiction, Science-Fiction, adventure, Historical, Detective and Mystery Stories, Mystery Fiction, Steampunk, London (England), Missing Persons, Brothels, Prostitutes
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inherited businesses from her and invested, and it's made him very rich indeed. Well! And there he is."
"What's he look like?" asked Maude.
"He's quite large," said Mrs. Corvey. "Has a beard. Well dressed. Footman, coachman, valet. There they go—he's been let off at the front door, I expect. Well, and who's this? Another carriage! Ah, now that must be the Turk. Ali Pasha."
"Oh! Has he got a turban on?"
"No, dear, one of those red sugar-loaf hats. And a military uniform with a lot of ornament. Some sort of official that's made a fortune in the Sultan's service."
"Has he got a carriage full of wives?"
"If he had, I should hardly think he'd bring them to a party of this sort. No, same as the other fellow: footman, driver, valet. And here's the next one! This would be the Frenchman, now. Count de Mortain, the brief said; I expect that's his coat-of-arms. Millionaire like the others, because his family did some favors for Bonaparte, but mostly the wealth's in his land. A bit cash-poor. Wonder if Lord Basmond knows?
"And here's the last one. Sir George Spiggott. No question he's a millionaire; pots of money from mills in the north.
Bad-tempered looking man, I must say. Well, ladies, one for each of you; and I doubt you'll get to choose."
"I suppose Lord Basmond is a bit of a fairy prince after all," said Maude.
"Might be, I suppose." Mrs. Corvey turned away from the window. "Notwithstanding, if he does require your services in the customary way, any one of you, be sure to oblige and see if you can't slip him something to make him talkative into the bargain."
H AVING BEEN LEFT to fend for themselves, the ladies spent an hour or two devising chitons out of the bed sheets. Fortunately Jane had a sewing kit in her reticule, and found moreover a spool of ten yards of peacock blue grosgrain ribbon in the bottom of her trunk, so a certain amount of tailoring was possible. The florist's boxes proved to contain laurel leaves indeed, but also maidenhair fern and pink rosebuds, and Lady Beatrice was therefore able to produce chaplets that better suited her sense of historical accuracy.
They were chatting pleasantly about the plot of Dickens' latest literary effort when Mrs. Duncan opened the door and peered in at them.
"I don't suppose one of you girls would consider doing a bit of honest work," she said.
"Really, madam, how much more honest could our profession be?" said Lady Beatrice. "We dissemble about nothing."
>"What's the job?" inquired Mrs. Corvey.
>Mrs. Duncan grimaced. "Churning the ice cream. The swan mold arrived by special post this morning, and it's three times the size we thought it was to be, and the girls and I have about broke our arms trying to make enough ice cream to fill the damned thing."
>"As it's in aid of the general entertainment for which we was engaged, my girls will be happy to assist at no extra charge," said Mrs. Corvey. "Our Maude does a lot of heavy lifting and is quite strong, ain't you, dear?"
>"Yes, Ma'am," replied Maude, dropping a curtsey. Mrs. Duncan, with hope dawning in her face, ventured further:
"And, er, if some of you wouldn't mind—there's some smallwork with the sugar paste, and the jellied Cupids want a steady hand in turning out..."
A PRONS WERE FOUND for them and the ladies ventured forth to assist with the Dessert.
>A grain-sack carrier had been set across a pair of trestles, with a vast pewter tray fastened atop it, and a massive edifice of cake set atop that. One of the maids was on a stepladder, crouched over the cake with a piping-bag full of icing, attempting to decorate it with a frieze of scallop shells. As they entered, she dropped the bag and burst into tears.
>"Oh! There's another one crooked! Oh, I'll lose my place for certain! Mrs. Duncan, I ain't no pastry cook, and my arm hurts like anything. Why don't I just go out and drown myself?"
>"No need for theatrics," said Lady Beatrice, taking up the piping-bag. "Ladies? Forward!"
There was, it seemed, a
"What's he look like?" asked Maude.
"He's quite large," said Mrs. Corvey. "Has a beard. Well dressed. Footman, coachman, valet. There they go—he's been let off at the front door, I expect. Well, and who's this? Another carriage! Ah, now that must be the Turk. Ali Pasha."
"Oh! Has he got a turban on?"
"No, dear, one of those red sugar-loaf hats. And a military uniform with a lot of ornament. Some sort of official that's made a fortune in the Sultan's service."
"Has he got a carriage full of wives?"
"If he had, I should hardly think he'd bring them to a party of this sort. No, same as the other fellow: footman, driver, valet. And here's the next one! This would be the Frenchman, now. Count de Mortain, the brief said; I expect that's his coat-of-arms. Millionaire like the others, because his family did some favors for Bonaparte, but mostly the wealth's in his land. A bit cash-poor. Wonder if Lord Basmond knows?
"And here's the last one. Sir George Spiggott. No question he's a millionaire; pots of money from mills in the north.
Bad-tempered looking man, I must say. Well, ladies, one for each of you; and I doubt you'll get to choose."
"I suppose Lord Basmond is a bit of a fairy prince after all," said Maude.
"Might be, I suppose." Mrs. Corvey turned away from the window. "Notwithstanding, if he does require your services in the customary way, any one of you, be sure to oblige and see if you can't slip him something to make him talkative into the bargain."
H AVING BEEN LEFT to fend for themselves, the ladies spent an hour or two devising chitons out of the bed sheets. Fortunately Jane had a sewing kit in her reticule, and found moreover a spool of ten yards of peacock blue grosgrain ribbon in the bottom of her trunk, so a certain amount of tailoring was possible. The florist's boxes proved to contain laurel leaves indeed, but also maidenhair fern and pink rosebuds, and Lady Beatrice was therefore able to produce chaplets that better suited her sense of historical accuracy.
They were chatting pleasantly about the plot of Dickens' latest literary effort when Mrs. Duncan opened the door and peered in at them.
"I don't suppose one of you girls would consider doing a bit of honest work," she said.
"Really, madam, how much more honest could our profession be?" said Lady Beatrice. "We dissemble about nothing."
>"What's the job?" inquired Mrs. Corvey.
>Mrs. Duncan grimaced. "Churning the ice cream. The swan mold arrived by special post this morning, and it's three times the size we thought it was to be, and the girls and I have about broke our arms trying to make enough ice cream to fill the damned thing."
>"As it's in aid of the general entertainment for which we was engaged, my girls will be happy to assist at no extra charge," said Mrs. Corvey. "Our Maude does a lot of heavy lifting and is quite strong, ain't you, dear?"
>"Yes, Ma'am," replied Maude, dropping a curtsey. Mrs. Duncan, with hope dawning in her face, ventured further:
"And, er, if some of you wouldn't mind—there's some smallwork with the sugar paste, and the jellied Cupids want a steady hand in turning out..."
A PRONS WERE FOUND for them and the ladies ventured forth to assist with the Dessert.
>A grain-sack carrier had been set across a pair of trestles, with a vast pewter tray fastened atop it, and a massive edifice of cake set atop that. One of the maids was on a stepladder, crouched over the cake with a piping-bag full of icing, attempting to decorate it with a frieze of scallop shells. As they entered, she dropped the bag and burst into tears.
>"Oh! There's another one crooked! Oh, I'll lose my place for certain! Mrs. Duncan, I ain't no pastry cook, and my arm hurts like anything. Why don't I just go out and drown myself?"
>"No need for theatrics," said Lady Beatrice, taking up the piping-bag. "Ladies? Forward!"
There was, it seemed, a
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