Chapter 5
The Crown Inn was not a particularly nice place. As inns went, it was noisy, usually crowded, and tended to have an overwhelming smell of animals at the best of times.
It was, however, cheap.
Since cheap had been what Paisley was looking for when she first stumbled on the place, she was eager to take a room, especially since breakfast and an evening meal were included in the price, and long-term arrangements were permitted.
She did, however, have a roommate. That hadn't been an ideal circumstance, but it was that or no room at all, the landlady had told her, so Paisley had reluctantly agreed. Now, she and Ava were best friends.
Ava didn't seem to have a surname. If she did, she kept it to herself. Paisley privately thought that Ava was the most beautiful person she'd ever met. The girls were around the same age, both cut adrift in a world not designed for them, so perhaps it was natural that they should become friends.
Ava had long, red-gold hair that shimmered in the (rare) sunlight, and large honey-brown eyes.
She had a beautiful figure too, one that Paisley secretly envied.
She herself had lost weight since leaving home.
Her meals were few and far between, and nowhere near as tasty and well put together as the meals she'd enjoyed at home.
Ava had been living in the room at the Crown for at least half a year by the time Paisley joined her and had taken the time to make the place homely and well-arranged.
She'd even added a few bits of furniture, including the tarnished, gilt-framed mirror that Paisley was currently inspecting herself in.
"What do you think?" Paisley asked, pursing her lips. "I like this dress, and it's comfortable."
Ava sighed, propping herself up on her elbows from where she was sprawled on her own bed.
"I think that ye are overthinking this. And ye will need the hem taking up."
Paisley glanced down at the hem. It just swept the floor, which was an eminently proper length for an English lady of Society.
"What's wrong with the length? How long should it be?"
"Ankle length, I'd say."
"Ankle length?" Paisley gasped, horrified. "I can't wear a dress that short!"
Ava rolled her eyes. "Fine. Let yer fine dress drag on the floor.
I'm sure there's all sorts of things down on a pub floor for ye to scrub out of yer skirts later.
Ye are a working woman now, Paisley, not a lady.
Skirts that brush the floor might do well enough in a well-swept, polished ballroom, but not on the sticky, filthy floor of a pub. "
Paisley's shoulders sagged, and she groaned. "Oh, I suppose you are right. I'll just have to grin and bear it, won't I? I'll be moving around, carrying things... I can't risk tripping on my skirts."
She rambled on, barely listening to herself.
The dress she'd chosen was the nicest one she had.
Or rather, the nicest one she'd risked taking in the single suitcase she brought from home.
It was a lavender color, with a plain bodice, sleeves that ended just above the elbow, and no real decoration or ornamentation except a discreet frill of lace at the cuffs.
Ava arrived home later that night, as was her custom.
The girls had fallen into a good routine by now.
Ava brought home pies – where she obtained fresh pies at that time of night, Paisley did not know, but did not care to question it – and Paisley prepared a nice, hot bath for her friend.
Then they would sit and chat about everything and nothing, before finally tumbling into bed.
Not too late tonight, though. Paisley had work in the morning. Ava had certainly been surprised at her news, and a little skeptical of the barkeep, Dominic.
"He's a deep one, and nay mistake," Ava warned her. "Ye can never tell what he's thinking."
"He offered me a job, and that's enough for me," Paisley responded, experimentally hitching up her skirt an inch or two. "So, what do you think of the dress? Will it do?"
"Aye, I think so. Wear me yellow apron, mind ye. Ye'll get things spilled all down ye at that pub."
"I'm working at a pub," Paisley said, a hint of disbelief in her voice. "Me. I have a proper job. I can hardly believe it."
"Nor can I," Ava yawned, levering herself up from the bed. Her hair was wet, hanging in dark strings down her back, and she twisted it nimbly back and around into a knot. "Give me the dress. I'll take up the hem for ye. Ye ought to get some sleep. Did ye get money for rent, by the way?"
"Yes, I did. I left it on the counter. I might not need to resort to card games with smelly men from now on."
Ava didn't smile. She didn't seem to share Paisley's optimism.
Their room was a decently sized one, situated at the top of the house, right under the eaves. It meant that the room was cold in the winter, but it also meant that their room was slightly larger than the others.
There were two single beds at either end of the room, with a curtain strung up between them for privacy.
Ava had found a battered old writing desk from somewhere and had pushed it into the corner.
There were two armchairs near the fireplace, a low table between them, and various other bits and pieces.
Paisley's contribution was a selection of colorful rugs scattered here and there, nicely brightening up the place.
Stripping off the lavender dress and pulling on her nightgown, Paisley crawled into bed with a sigh, blowing out the candle. Ava settled herself by the fire and the candle on the table and began to work.
"Ye should be careful," she said, just as Paisley was closing her eyes and settling down to sleep.
"Hm? What?"
"Pubs are dangerous. The Sinner is better than most, but still," Ava said, focused on her work. "I wish ye hadn't taken the job."
"What, would you rather have had me playing cards for a living?"
"Gods, nay! That was far worse. I just wish ye dinnae have to do anything like this. I like ye, Paisley, but ye arenae cut out for this life."
Paisley carefully rolled over in bed, so that her back was turned to Ava.
"Well, that's a shame, because I don't have much choice, do I? Bills have to be paid, and I need to earn money somehow," she said, keeping her voice light and unconcerned.
Ava sighed and said nothing. Paisley could imagine her sewing, the needle flashing in and out of the material like a tiny silver fish.
Ava was good at that sort of thing – sewing, cooking, and cleaning.
None of that was how she made her living, which had shocked Paisley to the core at first. But it didn't matter in the end.
Ava was Ava and felt like the first real friend Paisley had ever had.
She wasn't sure how she would manage if she had to go back to her bland, genteel Society friends, who never said what they thought and had no aims beyond catching a rich husband and living a comfortable life.
If they met Ava even once, it would kill them, she thought, smothering a smile. They wouldn't mind Dominic though. Some of them might be scared, but all of them would swoon anyway... He wouldn't even need to say anything.
Still, even Ava's dubious attitude couldn't dampen Paisley's optimism, and she fell asleep almost immediately, half terrified and half excited for what the morning would bring.
The morning brought rain, as it happened.
Paisley had woken once in the night to hear the rain pattering angrily on the roof, only a few feet above their heads.
It was dark, and she could see the lumpy figure of Ava in the bed opposite.
An irregular shape in the corner formed itself into her dress, hem lifted now for greater practicality.
She'd fallen asleep immediately again and woke at dawn to hear the rain still thundering down.
She dressed quickly and quietly, trying not to wake Ava.
Her ankles felt chilly with her new shockingly short hem, but the new length would doubtless prove to be advantageous. She'd get used to it.
Anyway, Ava reminded herself, it's not as if I'm wearing thin satin slippers anymore. I'm wearing hefty boots. You can't even see my ankles.
The ground around the Crown was sodden, the paths churned up into mire from countless feet and hooves.
Paisley was used to it now, sticking to the slippery wooden paths set haphazardly around the worst of the mud.
She neatly dodged a splash of filthy water from a cart rolling past, her mind fixed on what today would be like.
It was early in the morning, she doubted they would have many customers, if any. Would she have to cook? Paisley hoped not. She could barely boil eggs and make tea. Serve drinks? Almost certainly.
I can do that, Paisley thought, I can carry drinks to tables and whatnot. How difficult can it be?
She ducked through the forest path, remembering how she'd dashed through it only the night before, pursued by Dominic. The thought of him sent a thrill through her, a strange, tingling sensation in her gut.
Stop, Paisley told herself fiercely. This is your employer. You need this position.
Despite all of her mental preparation, her heart skipped a beat and her guts knotted themselves up like a fist when she spotted the pub in the distance.
Best foot forward, she reminded herself, just like Mama used to tell her before a particularly important ball or party. Remember to smile. Be gracious and friendly, but not too familiar. Focus, and stay present.
Taking a deep breath, Paisley pushed open the door and stepped inside.
She blinked, taking in the scene.
She'd been right about the place being empty – or at least, almost empty.
A handful of drunks clustered together in the corner, and a lithe, dark-haired man leaned against the bar.
Dominic had his back to her, rearranging the liquor bottles on the counter.
Paisley smoothed down her dress, shaking out her skirts and straightening her (borrowed) apron, and stepped forward.