Chapter Sixteen #2
“Yeah,” Lauressa smiled as she looked at Calla, who had a frayed and thinning towel wrapped around herself.
The greying colour looked murkier against the unblemished, pink-tinged blossom of her body.
“Just seeing if Eleanor wanted to come,” Lauressa explained, prompting both women to look expectantly at her.
“I’m coming, I’ll see you down there,” Eleanor replied, so they could dismiss themselves as they were itching to leave together.
Lauressa’s smile brightened as Calla linked her arm through hers. In contrast to the subdued mood at the breakfast table, a newfound perkiness and cheerfulness was evident in both their demeanours.
A familiar pang settled in her chest as Eleanor took a breath to force some necessity into herself and get her body moving downstairs.
The collection of empty bottles that were usually strewn around the room had gone.
Eleanor tried to pinpoint when that had happened.
She was certain no one had been in the room while she’d been asleep.
She ran a hand over her face; wondering about disappearing bottles was pointless, and it was not getting her any nearer to the baths.
Begrudgingly, Eleanor held onto the handrail as she followed the steady stream of ladies heading downstairs with robes or towels wrapped around them, despite the lack of fires in the house.
Eleanor bypassed the closed door that led to the client floor and headed into the kitchen, where Julia heaved a straw shopping basket onto the wooden kitchen table.
The smell of freshly baked bread mixed with sugary sweetness filled the kitchen.
The saccharine and fresh scent indicated it originated from the Centre, as evidenced by Julia’s sweaty forehead and upper lip, a clear sign she had just walked from there.
With a heavy thud, the basket’s rounded bottom hit the table, and some of its precious contents rolled out from beneath the red cloth.
“Julia, be careful! These are from Poppy’s,” admonished Annabella. The blue-purple mark to her eye gave her a hardened demeanour.
Poppy’s was incredibly popular with anyone who could afford it.
The bakery sold all kinds of pastries and cakes, and it set the trend for the entire kingdom.
They likely served Julia from the back entrance—after all they couldn’t have the riff-raff going through the front entrance.
To protect their reputation, they couldn’t let their upstanding patrons know that a pleasure house bought their baked goods for particular clients from them.
The scandal would likely ruin their business.
Mirabella picked up one of the errant buns that’d rolled along the table while Annabella was pointing in the overfilled basket, counting the cakes and pastries. The contents revealed the freshly baked breaded pastries for everyone to walk past, with looks of longing at the basket.
A double layered, round smooth pink frosted cake sat the centre of the basket, nestled by various sized sweet pastries with sugared flour dusting them, while other pastries had a mixture of coloured glazing, a few with a red glaze shined back at her, and white icing laced over buns.
“Calvin coming tonight then?” Iris asked conversationally, as if the smell of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries weren’t making their mouths water.
“What I wouldn’t give for a client like Calvin,” Lauressa sighed wistfully, looking at the shiny glazing.
“Surely you don’t need a basketful. You won’t miss one?” Calla said, reaching a hand towards the stuffed basket. “Ouch!” she exclaimed as Annabella slapped her hand.
“Hands off! They’re for our client.”
The Bellas’ enviable curves were no secret within The Ladies Grace.
Eleanor and many ladies at The Ladies Grace could have similar curves if they were being fed better.
As it was, they all appeared thin as a rake, looking underfed if they skipped a meal, something Eleanor was certain she had done multiple times.
Eleanor took advantage of the Bellas’ all too satisfied looks at their basket of goods and brushed past the table’s edge. Before anyone could see, Eleanor swiped her hand at the forgotten palm-sized sugared roll and poured herself a glass of water by the kitchen sink.
“We’ll make sure the old bat knows if anyone’s taken anything,” Annabella called over her shoulder as the Bellas made their way to the bathing house.
“Why couldn’t they have had baps again,” Lauressa grumbled.
“We couldn’t get the smell out of the house for days,” Iris chided, referring to the last time the Bellas’ client, Calvin, had been at the pleasure house.
Eleanor’s stomach winced in memory; Julia had been instructed to warm the baps in the oven, resulting in The Ladies Grace smelling like a bakery.
They’d opened all the windows overnight in a futile attempt to dissipate the smell, but it’d been a bitter night, which had driven them to double up in their beds for a semblance of warmth.
Even after the freezing night, the cloying sweetness of the fresh dough had hung heavy in the air for days afterwards, a torment that only intensified their shared misery.
It was a certain cruel torture: the rich, savoury scent of the food mocked their hunger, a painful reminder of their empty stomachs.
Lauressa and Calla mumbled a unified “no” as they parted for the bathing house.
“Lia, more steam!” a shrill voice called from the small hallway beyond the kitchen.
Julia groaned as she wiped some of the lingering perspiration from her forehead.
“Come on Lia. Finish your jobs, then Nica will be ready for your lessons before tonight,” Iris coaxed, referring to Veronica’s lessons.
Veronica either took pity on the others or was bored, Eleanor wasn’t certain, but she had ended up teaching everyone in the house how to read and write before they had to prepare for the nightshift clients.
It’d started with Julia and had progressed to the entire house.
Madam Grace had encouraged the education, thinking it’d add some worth to them.
Eleanor hoped for Veronica’s sake the madam had discounted Veronica’s debt for the service.
With a silent sight, Eleanor placed the cup in the sink, the clinking sound surprisingly loud in the quiet kitchen, before walking past Julia and surreptitiously slipping the small, sugared roll into the girl’s skirt pocket with a heavy hand, so she felt the weight of it.
Not waiting for Julia's response to the petty theft, Eleanor quickly slipped through the archway towards the bathhouse, the scent of brine and sweat heavy in the air.