Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
The first thing Jenny noticed, when Gwen and Miriam convened at her house two days later, was how withdrawn Gwen looked.
Her eyes were dark smudges, and she had a fading bruise on her jaw that she excused with a self-deprecating comment about opening a cupboard door without looking.
Jenny didn’t believe a word of it but decided not to pry.
She hoped they were close enough that Gwen would tell her when she felt able.
Miriam produced her sketchbook. She had completed four pencil-drawings of different men leaving or arriving at Selina’s house, along with a note of the times – which ranged from early afternoon to late evening.
Jenny recognised one of the men as a prominent businessman with a large shop selling everything from ironmongery to haberdashery, and the other as the minister of a particularly evangelical church.
‘Well done. The likeness is excellent, and it’s very clear whose house they are visiting. I don’t recognise the other two, but I’m sure Selina will.’
Miriam cleared her throat. ‘There’s one more. I wasn’t sure whether I should show you but I really think I should.’
She turned the next page and passed the book back to Jenny. Jenny stared down at the sketch with a frown. It was abundantly clear why Miriam might have had reservations about sharing it with her. It was Uncle Conrad.
‘Ah. I am aware that they know each other, of course – that’s how I met Selina, after all. Do you think it’s possible that Uncle Conrad knows nothing of what she does?’
She asked the question hopefully, but the look of derision that both Miriam and Gwen gave her made their opinions on that perfectly clear. Jenny tapped the page with her forefinger thoughtfully.
‘Of course, this might be to our advantage, too. After all, Selina won’t want these to be made public, and I really doubt that Uncle Conrad will. He might suddenly find himself a little more eager to reveal to me some of the mysteries surrounding my inheritance.’
Jenny handed the book back to Miriam. Their fingers brushed and a little shiver of desire raced through her.
Miriam didn’t immediately pull away, and it gave Jenny hope that they might reconcile.
She couldn’t forget the way Miriam had held her so fiercely after they had run from the brothel.
They still meant something to each other.
‘Thank you, Miriam, you’ve done excellent work. It’s a shame that these pictures will never see the light of day if things go according to plan.’
‘Oh, but I shall keep a fair copy for myself,’ Miriam said easily.
‘Even if I change the faces, I am really pleased with the composition. I think a street scene of the upper-class madams of London could be quite eye-catching in a Hogarthian way. Or perhaps I will change it to Paris. I’m not sure yet. ’
They grinned at each other and the glow of happiness that Jenny felt was something she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
If she reached out and touched Miriam – a hand on the shoulder, a brush of fingertips on the wrist – what would the response be?
It was with some difficulty that she remembered they weren’t alone and dragged herself back to the present.
‘What do you think, Gwen?’ she asked.
Gwen nodded faintly. ‘Yes, very good. I’m sorry. I know I should be more enthusiastic, but I have been a little out of sorts.’
‘Tell us,’ Jenny urged.
‘There’s very little to tell.’ Gwen sat back in her chair and closed her eyes wearily. ‘My husband and I have quarrelled again and my son… Well, the less said about him the better.’
Jenny poured her a glass of cordial, which Gwen sipped.
‘But soon this will be over,’ Gwen said. Her voice was brighter, but her eyes betrayed the sadness that hung over her. ‘Let’s set this aside and go visit Miss Salisbury.’
They took a cab to Selina’s residence. The expense was worth it to arrive feeling refreshed ahead of what promised to be a very delicate conversation.
Jenny sent her calling card in. The three women had decided that she was the most respectable, and the connection with Mr Rosewood might make her more likely to be admitted.
They were escorted to the same parlour where Selina had given them an audience before, with the outlandish furniture and art.
Now it was hard for Jenny not to picture Selina lying on the peacock-covered chaise longue in a state of abandonment, while presumably counting guineas in her head.
Selina was wearing a scarlet skirt with a peach blouse decorated with scarlet flowers.
Her hair was assembled into a loose chignon and she wore a peach day cap threaded through with scarlet ribbons.
She looked like a respectable woman who might be spending the afternoon at her piano or canvas, not a courtesan.
But then she was very intelligent, and some men valued conversation and a veneer of class as much as they did an alluring body, which Jenny had to admit Selina had.
‘Ladies, this is unexpected,’ Selina purred. ‘I am assuming this is not a pleasure call, but nevertheless would you like some tea? I have a rather wonderful orange pekoe that is delightfully refreshing.’
‘Yes, please,’ Gwen said.
Jenny looked at her in surprise, but Gwen raised an eyebrow.
‘As Miss Salisbury says, it isn’t a social call, but I do hope we can remain civilised when she hears what we have to say.’
Selina’s eyes flickered. She reached out and rang the silver bell, and before long a smartly dressed young man entered the room. He wasn’t the same man they had seen before, but he was equally handsome.
‘Kershaw. Tea, please,’ Selina commanded.
He bowed deeply and left. Selina turned to Miriam.
‘I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure. Miss Rosewood, will you introduce me?’
Jenny gave Miriam’s name. ‘Miss Sandler is an artist of some skill. She’s brought along some sketches that we thought you might be interested in.’
‘I am not much of a patron of the arts,’ Selina said.
‘I think you might like these pictures, though,’ Gwen said, giving an insincere smile.
‘I believe you prefer the music hall,’ Jenny said with a light laugh. ‘The view from a box can be excellent.’
Selina looked slightly off-kilter. When the tea arrived, she allowed Kershaw to pour it then dismissed him.
‘Now, shall we begin?’ she said crisply.
Jenny nodded to Gwen who sat forward on her seat.
‘You know that I am aware that Augusta Charles is operating a brothel from the coffee shop known as The Rook and Wren and that she is forcing her wards into prostitution.’
Selina laughed. ‘Yes, I was surprised to see you there. Have you thought any more of her proposal regarding remedies for any ailments the ladies might suffer?’
Jenny looked at Gwen in surprise.
‘No. Nor do I intend to,’ Gwen said bluntly. ‘I am appalled to have been caught up in such an occupation at all. Which brings us to our purpose today. We have discovered that Augusta is using our product not in a public house or an opium den, but in a brothel. Were you aware of this?’
Selina smiled condescendingly. ‘Yes. I was. And I apologise for the deception. But obviously, some people’s moral standards would prevent them wanting to be associated with it, and your product was too good to waste the opportunity of using it.’
‘So you’re happy that she is using it to drug the girls into submission,’ Miriam snarled.
‘That’s not what she does with it,’ Selina scoffed. ‘Where on earth did you get that outlandish idea?’
Jenny put her teacup down angrily. ‘I’ve witnessed it with my own eyes.’
‘No!’ Selina shook her head rapidly. ‘You must be mistaken. Augusta wouldn’t do something so immoral!’
Her disbelief appeared genuine. Jenny crossed the room and stood in front of her, watching her face for signs that she might be acting.
‘I was there recently, and I heard Augusta forcing it upon one of her girls. I think it was the one who was in the office when we first met her. She spoke a language I think was Italian.’
‘Bella! Oh no, surely not! She’s far too young to be working yet!
’ Selina looked aghast. She fumbled her cup and saucer as she put them on the side table.
It was the first graceless motion Jenny could remember seeing her ever perform.
Again, she seemed authentically shocked, which gave Jenny hope that they might find an ally in her.
‘Did you know that Augusta uses her wards in that way?’ Gwen’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
‘I know that some of the girls end up working there when they are older. I’ve taken on a handful over the years to train in more expert skills, if they’ve shown real promise and intelligence and have been willing to better themselves. Some of them have gone on to be mistresses to wealthy patrons.’
She sounded proud, and Jenny’s stomach turned rancid with dislike. She snorted.
‘Don’t presume to judge me,’ Selina said sharply, whipping her head round to Jenny.
‘There are worse ways to earn a living than spending an hour with a gentleman. Not all of Augusta’s girls end up in my line of work.
Some of them go into service in houses very much like yours, or to the factories.
I often wonder if they regret that decision.
Ask anyone gutting fish in Billingsgate in January, or picking potatoes in a field from dawn to dusk, whether she’d rather be lying on her back in the warm. ’
Selina stood and paced to the window, then to the door, clenching and unclenching her hands. She turned to face the three women and there was indisputable distress on her face.
‘I knew Augusta wanted the tincture for the brothel, but I truly thought it was for the men. I never dreamed she would be drugging the girls. You have to believe me in that. I thought it would give the men a little extra vigour.’
Gwen motioned to Jenny and Miriam. They huddled together. Miriam held the sketchbook in her hands, unopened. With relief, Jenny suspected they would not need to resort to blackmail.
‘Do we believe her?’ Gwen asked.
‘I think so,’ Jenny said.