Chapter Two
A s exciting as the nights at The Lyon’s Den were when Ada gambled at high stakes, her usual days were fraught with cleaning up after Charlotte Silvers. Ada hated every moment of her mundane life under the Silvers’ roof.
“Should I wear the fawn-colored gloves or the white?” Charlotte Silvers threw a pair of white gloves on the floor with a haughty air as if Ada should be grateful for the opportunity to gather them. “I think the brown.” Good choice . The white clashed with Charlotte’s dirty teeth, while the brown would blend in seamlessly. Ada chuckled to herself.
One by one, Ada hung the scarf, ribbons, and fur stole over her left arm as she picked up the trail of garments Charlotte had dropped when she had finished with them.
“I will wear the half-boots today.” Another pair of boots flew across the carpet, nearly hitting Ada in the head.
“Spoiled brat,” Ada mumbled to herself as she bent down to collect Charlotte’s scattered boots from the floor in the foyer before anyone stumbled over them.
“Did you say something?” Charlotte called, sending her frilly collar flying as if she were on stage. She peeked over her shoulder before her brother, Daniel, rushed past them, plopping his hat on to escort her for the day. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” she declared on her way out to Regent Street for another day of shopping.
“Oh drat,” Ada feigned a smile. “I hope it won’t rain. We wouldn’t want your new boots to get water stains.” Then she went about her work to tidy up after her.
Wham.
Daniel slammed the door behind them. He always made sure that his exit from a room was heard and felt. He was such an arrogant prig; he probably couldn’t imagine how the world could function without his presence. He never even acknowledged Ada’s presence in the room.
Charlotte and Daniel Silvers, the children of wealthy parents, were considered the darlings in their circle of social climbers. Their father, a former classmate of Ada’s father, owned two butcher shops in London. He had amassed his fortune by killing innocent animals, utilizing every part of their carcasses—not only the meat.
He dried cows’ ears for dog treats, macerated the eyes and brains into sausages, and even boiled the hooves for hours to sell the broth. The scent of death seemed to emanate from everything he touched, but the stench lingering at the Silvers’ apartment didn’t bother them. Stepping over carcasses in their slaughterhouse and spilling blood was fine, as far as they were concerned.
Life only had value if it satisfied their immediate and personal needs, whims, and desires. Simply put, crushing out the lives of animals was no different than crushing dried leaves in the fall. As long as the Silvers always had meat and money, turning death into business didn’t seem the least bit immoral to them.
“On the contrary,” Mr. Silvers said when Ada once asked if he minded killing fluffy lambs. “At least the animals can be useful this way!”
She’d cringed in disgust. The family only found useful what served the purpose of making them happy. Otherwise, nothing and no one warranted consideration. Instant gratification was their goal at any price.
Ada’s father’s smuggling enterprise seemed far less immoral than the Silvers’ business, and yet he’d paid with his life.
Dylan, the second footman, came into the hallway and slipped her a playing card; a folded queen of spades. “Coming to the back for a round?” he said as if he hadn’t passed anything to her. But he didn’t need to—the card itself said enough. It meant that the cook was cheating.
If Dylan had passed her the king, then it would have meant the valet was cutting the deck. And there were other signals they could exchange. A young man of twenty, the footman was one of Ada’s only close friends. When he wasn’t sneaking around with Maria, the pretty kitchen maid, he gambled. He and Ada had worked out this system of communication so they could speak without saying a word.
She tucked Charlotte’s boots under her arm and walked to the back door to the courtyard behind the kitchen. Her own cold feet were dressed in felted slippers with holes. She’d brought the shoes with her. The rest of her clothes and shoes had been expected to arrive with her father’s shipment a year ago but never had. Instead, her father’s killers had taken everything, even the blank pages from her diaries.
Ada snuck a hot bun from the cooling rack in the kitchen on the way out to the courtyard to join the rest of the staff in a game of Commerce. They too were her friends; they didn’t look down on her and didn’t treat her poorly.
And they didn’t care that she’d grown up on trade ships and played with anyone willing—smugglers, travelers, and the crew. It was her way to feel connected to her father. Over time, he’d taught her to maintain a perfectly placid face, no matter what cards she held in her hand. Bluffing was a way of lying about her luck, but only when asked about her hand.
“One day, your skills from card games will come in handy, Maidale , sweet girl,” her father had said in Yiddish when he tucked her in every evening, always with a gentle kiss on her forehead. Ada touched her face as if she could feel her father’s gentle love one more time.
“Remember, this is a game. But the skills you develop translate to real life,” he’d warned her. Ada didn’t understand then but pretended to acquiesce. Now it came together. Much in real life was merely a bluff, and quite necessary for her survival in London. Dealing good cards, for instance, was how she’d made friends among the house staff. Bit by bit Ada had come to realize that every trick in card games worked exactly as her father had predicted. Memorization skills, shuffle tracking, shortcuts… all were useful, and yet—none of these skills had protected her from being trapped at the Silvers.
“I had a flush!” Dylan called when Ada walked to the group of men sitting on wooden boxes, cards in their hands. The cook, the valet, and Dylan threw their cards on the plank that served as a makeshift table.
“Play’n?” The cook raised a brow and cast Ada a friendly smile.
“Certainly, but no garroting.” She gestured at his head. He huffed and produced two kings that he’d saved. “Were you gonna make me cut?” She smiled, swiftly dismissing the cook’s attempt to cheat her.
“’Tis too smart for her own good, this girl,” the valet said. Dylan shuffled the cards and handed them to her. Ada shook her head. It had been a skeleton deck, and she could feel that it was too thin and too light. She wriggled her fingers, inviting the cheater to produce the missing cards.
“There’s no fooling’ you, is there?” Dylan muttered as he retrieved the four queens from his pocket.
“I’m dealing,” Ada said with renewed vigor. She’d already slipped the tens in her sleeve and was ready to earn herself some pocket money. Careful not to take too much from her fellow servants, Ada reserved the tougher gambling tricks for the wealthy players at The Lyon’s Den.
Later that night, after Charlotte had returned with her latest purchases and Ada had pressed and folded the new chemises and even the new silk stockings, was she able to unhook the bell in her room and open her diary. Not one like other young women her age kept. She didn’t confide in the pages and dream of a husband. Her notes were more pragmatic than that. It was only because—like her father—Ada kept careful records, especially of her wins.
Page after page listed the dates, initials of her gambling partners, the game, and her wins. Only wins, for she hadn’t lost a game since she was fourteen. That time, the captain’s son coerced her first kiss. She’d given it willingly, for they were friends, and she would have kissed him eventually even if he hadn’t had the trump card.
Ada smiled when she remembered the freedom she’d had growing up on her father’s ships. The captains’ children were her playmates and classmates. Her father always found tutors to give them lessons during the long and dreary passages. By day, they studied. At night, they gambled. It had been the most delightfully exciting childhood and Ada had gained more life experience than most of the people she’d met in London.
But the stakes were high in the great city. Especially when she gambled at The Lyon’s Den. Ada flipped her diary shut and hid the book in the tin box under a loose floorboard where she also kept her savings. Her wins.
A few minutes later, she donned her dark blue dress and crept out of the house. She supposed it was a good thing that she had to wear a bonnet inside because she’d kept her long flaxen hair wrapped around ribbons and it fell in thick curls for a half updo. Considering the simplicity of her only evening gown, she regarded her hair as the best adornment—and the only one she could presently afford.
As Ada walked along Cleveland Row and toward the light blue building that was the notorious gambling hall, she thought of her father. He wouldn’t approve. But he wasn’t there to help either, so Ada had no choice. At the ladies’ entry, she saw Hermia in a heated discussion with another woman. When Ada was within earshot, the other woman pivoted and left. Hermia was tough, but another friendly face, one of Aunt Bessie’s entrusted wolves.
“Couldn’t pay her buy-in, hmm?” Ada unbuttoned her pelisse.
“You’re the only one who gets to play the men with house money,” Hermia said through pinched lips.
Ada took heart. Being the only female puffer was a somewhat delicate position. Not from a gambling side. That was easy enough. But as the nights grew long, men often wanted more from her than mere games—and that she’d never been willing to give. She’d always hoped to fall in love and be swept away by a man who’d make her bones melt with a kiss, like in the books she’d read. If a love of that sort wasn’t real, there wouldn’t be so many novels written on the topic. Thus, she hoped to find it someday. To find the man who’d melt her bones and catch her fall.
“Ada!” Hermia called before Titan could escort her to the gambling floor. “The governess wants me to recite a poem in French by Wednesday. Can you help?”
“Of course! I know quite a few by Jean de La Fontaine.” Ada blinked at the wolves. Most guests who frequented The Lyon’s Den were terrified of them, but they were her pack.
“We can plug every hole with you, hmm?” Titan offered his arm for Ada to hold as he walked. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
“I can’t do much at all, I’m afraid.”
He stopped and stared at her. “Let me get that right, Ada. You are probably the only woman I know who speaks four languages without ever slipping into an accent. You play every game like the masters, and your breadth of knowledge has yet to be scouted out by any of us.”
Ada gave a wistful smile. The bouncers and the servants were always nice to her. But they weren’t really her people, and their compliments didn’t quite reach every corner of her heart. She was Jewish but had no contact with the community.
“And you are by far the most beautiful woman here,” Titan gave her a knowing once-over. “I think that’s why she lets you play with the men. The ladies in the back room wouldn’t like you.”
Ada’s cheeks heated at the compliment.
Since the days on her father’s ship crossing the Channel from Dover to Calais, she’d been playing cards with men. They’d considered her an entertaining challenge, a girl to best at cards. They never did, of course. But women evaluated challenges beyond the gambling tables. Everything from her hair to her toes could threaten another woman’s pride in her persona. Men wouldn’t give Ada a second thought beyond the games because she was a girl. Girls couldn’t compete with men, even if they always won. It didn’t count. And yet, she had padded her savings with her exploits at The Lyon’s Den. Her only hope was to escape the prison at the Silvers. She couldn’t stand Charlotte’s nagging, self-indulgence, and stench anymore.
They’d arrived at the rouge et noir table and Titan nodded at Robin, who was dealing tonight.
“Good evening,” came a resonant and youthful voice from one of the chairs. Ada glanced in the direction of the speaker. She rarely cared about who she was playing, if they kept their hands off her and the money flowing. But this voice came from an enormous shadow in the corner of her eye that made her look.
And what she saw left her mouth dry.