Chapter 5 #3
“Oui, mandates for the safety of patrons but also for safety of the girls. For one, a woman only must run such establishments, never a man. Regular medical visits are required, although these the state does not provide free of charge. But it is only best practice, and no manager shall begrudge these expenses. Allow me to think . . . What else are these rules? Ah, a working woman must register with the police des m?urs her name, age, and address. No matter if she works alone or in a maison.”
“All—” What word to use? She did not wish to offend Amélie. “All working women are on this registry?” If Lucy had been handed over somewhere . . .
Amélie looked at her with some sympathy.
“In theory, oui. In practice, this is not always so. At certain maisons there is for the police sometimes incentive to overlook some of the practices that occur. Girls might still be brought to work in such places but without public records. Or registered under altered names.”
“But it is possible my sister—”
“Perhaps,” Amélie interrupted gently. “However, you should not put too many of your hopes on this possibility. Jeremiah Compton has a share in Les Moineaux, but Guillaume Dubois is who owns it. He is not, of course, who runs it by the law. That is a Mme Lafourcade, she who has charge nominally of his sparrows. Dubois is by his reputation known to many. He follows rules when it benefits him. When it does not?” Amélie held up her hands.
“There are those in power who have their own interests to see that some girls remain unregistered or at least off official rolls. Many of these girls of Dubois, he finds them on the streets of Paris, registered already with la police. But there are rumors that some he does not find in this way, that this is Compton’s interest as well.
Dubois is one such man for whom the police des m?urs might overlook these things.
But certainly I cannot say that any such thing has occurred to your sister, even if she has fallen into company with Compton. I very much hope it is not so.”
She could barely speak, lungs devoid of air. Her fragile hopes of the past few hours were being extinguished by ice flooding her veins. “Could I speak to this—Mme Lafourcade, you said?—to find out if my sister is in Les Moineaux?”
“Non, you will not want to speak with her even if such an opportunity might be created. Dubois knows all that occurs in his maisons, and you do not wish to have such attention put upon yourself. For your safety, if I may be blunt. Mme Lafourcade will be very much in his confidence, to keep her job. She would report to him your conversation. Nor will it be wise for him to know that you are looking for your sister, whether she is in his power or not.” Amélie tapped her lips for a moment.
“As I have said, a doctor goes as required by the police des m?urs every two weeks to examine each girl. Sometimes these doctors, they are paid to turn a blind eye to these girls who are unregistered but who must for the integrity of the house be free of disease.”
Isobel grasped at new hope, however tenuous, even as her small breakfast rolled uneasily in her stomach. “If the doctors are paid to turn a blind eye, can they also be paid to speak of what they know?”
“Oui, this is the question we must ask. Perhaps, perhaps not,” Amélie mused.
“It will depend most entirely on whose pocket they are in. I will think on this and ask some friends of mine what they know of these matters with the houses of Dubois. And if any girls have come in who are matching the description of Lucy.”
“Thank you. Any help at all, any direction I might pursue, I—”
“Non,” Amélie said sharply before gentling her tone.
“You must not pursue this on your own, no matter what it is I discover. These are not moral men. It is not safe for you, especially as a stranger to our city. Non, ma chère. Do not be sad about this. You are no longer alone but are now among friends. I will help you, and Nathaniel has not brought you to me only to forget of your existence. He is a man very good to have on one’s side. ”
“I must write out some notes for Nathaniel,” she said weakly. “I’ve been keeping a journal—”
“Non. You will sleep until you are ready to wake. You have worn down yourself almost to a nothing. These notes of yours, they will keep.”
She was still exhausted, brought more sharply into relief by a warm, comfortable—safe—room and her first good meal in several days. Without further protest, she allowed Amélie to sweep her towards a guest chamber within the private apartment.
“If you have any need of me, pull the bell rope and my maid Louise will report to me your wishes,” Amélie instructed.
“This evening or tomorrow morning when Nathaniel returns will be soon enough to put together our heads towards these problems you face. I promise, ma chère, matters will seem less daunting then. But you must rest, for without your strength you will not be able to help your sister when we find her.”
As she fell asleep, she clung to Amélie’s certainty in lieu of her own.