A Very Respectable House
I stay in the alley for a long time after my hysterics subside, then sneak out of the barrel and limp back home. My teeth are chattering and I’m wet down to my underthings; I know I smell, too, but my nose seems to have ceased functioning. A small mercy.
I stand on the stoop and pound on the boardinghouse door—gently at first, and then with increasing urgency. I glance from side to side, hoping no unsavory characters are wandering through the alley to see my helplessness.
“Mistress Mungon!” My cry finally has an effect. Slow footsteps sound from the other side of the door. I cross my arms in front of my chest and shiver. All I want to do is peel off these freezing things and crawl into bed, but I’m hideously behind on chores. At least scrubbing floors will warm me up.
The bolt scrapes in the lock, and the door swings inward. A frowning Mistress Mungon stands inside, wearing a dressing gown and holding a candle. “Miss Flanders! Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“No, ma’am, but I’ll explain everything when I’m inside.” Or at least most things. I really haven’t had time to analyze my interaction with Lucas; I’ll keep that to myself for now.
Mistress Mungon snorts, but steps aside so I can enter.
“I’ll get right to mopping,” I say, aware of the mess I’m dragging in. “I know I missed last—”
“I’m giving you your final warning,” Mistress Mungon interrupts.
“Warning?”
“You know I run a respectable house, Miss Flanders. I won’t have the prince’s— what is that smell?”
“The prince’s what?” I say.
She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “You’ve been out past curfew thrice now.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“It better not,” she says, shaking one fat finger at me. “If you choose to accept the prince’s favor in exchange for your—for your maidenhood, I suppose that is your business! But you’ll be finding another place to stay!”
I open my mouth, close it again. “It’s not like that , Mistress Mungon,” I finally squeak. “I’ve not done anything indiscrete.” I was almost kissed by Hugh in a dark corner, and then I almost kissed Lucas in a well-lit entry hall, but almost kissing isn’t the same as actually kissing. And tonight I was making oatmeal—for a horse—and then trying to do my duty toward an injured merchant—the very opposite of indiscretion, in my opinion!
“Not done anything yet, maybe,” Mistress Mungon stresses. She sniffs, makes a face, and backs away from me. “And it won’t be under my roof when he—gets what he wants.”
If I weren’t so cold, and so miserable, and so annoyed at Hugh—in short, if I were in a better mood, I wouldn’t roll my eyes. Unfortunately, I do. “You don’t actually think I’d try to take the prince to bed here. ”
This is the wrong thing to say.
Mistress Mungon pulls herself up taller. “Is there a problem with my house? ”
“Of course not. I just don’t think the prince would be interested in visiting one of the bedrooms in a place like this—”
“And what kind of place is this, exactly?” Mistress Mungon’s tone increases in shrillness.
I wave a hand, hoping to calm her. “It’s a perfectly fine place,” I say, “for someone like me! But it’s not very—well—grand!”
“I didn’t know pig-girls from Lower Splott needed a grand bed! ” The calming hand trick was not effective, judging by the amount of stresses in Mistress Mungon’s sentence. Really, to emphasize that many individual words weakens the overall meaning of the sentence—but now is not the time to quibble over diction.
“ I don’t need anything nicer—the prince is used to much finer places, is all I meant!”
“Are you embarrassed for him to see you here?”
I stare at Mistress Mungon. “I thought you didn’t want him to see me here?”
“Since you’re so ashamed of this place—”
“I’m not ashamed!” I attempt.
“—you can find a grander house to entertain your visitors!”
“I’m not going to entertain anyone,” I protest again, but it’s too late. Mistress Mungon grabs the broom leaning in the corner and begins muttering to herself as she spreads my rainwater and pickle brine all over the hall. “The bedrooms here are perfectly adequate! Quite respectable!”
“You’re getting the broom terribly muddy!” I try to stop her, but she pushes me aside.
“In my day, girls could entertain a caller in a simple place! Not anymore, I see!”
“I don’t want to entertain Hugh in any place!”
“Bedrooms are fine ! Parlor is fine ! Not grand enough, she says!”
I sigh. “Perhaps I could go do the washing up in the kitchen, and we can revisit this conversation in the morning.”
“Out!” Mistress Mungon says, not even looking at me while she points to the door .
“Or I could scrub the floor while you get some rest?”
“I’ll scrub my own floors! You can just go run back to your young man and let him know you want a grander home for your seductions!”
“I could ask him to return and take tea with us tomorrow,” I say through gritted teeth, “so we can all enjoy the fine accommodations you have here.”
“Out, out, out!”
“But Mistress Mungon—”
“Out!”
“I don’t have any of my things—”
“Two minutes! Then I want you out!” Mistress Mungon waves the broom at me, flinging fine droplets of mud over the whitewashed walls.
“Please, I think—”
“Now it’s one minute!”
I groan and race up the stairs.
Chemmy meets me when I’m halfway up, her bare toes peeking out beneath her nightgown and her eyes round as saucers. “I was listening over the banister,” she says. “Oh, what is that smell?”
“So you heard Mistress Mungon throwing me out because I said this bedroom wasn’t nice enough to tempt Prince Hugh to sleep here?”
“You really shouldn’t have said that,” Chemmy says.
“I know that now. ” She follows me into the bedroom, and I look around helplessly, blinking back tears. “I don’t know where else to go.”
“Ungus and his mother will let you stay for the night. Don’t take everything, though. I’m sure Mistress Mungon will let you back tomorrow when she settles down.”
“I doubt it.” I grab my extra gown and a clean pair of stockings and stuff them into a sack that Chemmy holds out for me. “Sorry I’m dripping all over the floor.”
“What happened to you, anyway? ”
My sigh is more of a growl. “Hugh.”
“Hugh!” Chemmy gasps. “Did he tear your dress? Did he—hurt you?”
“Shh! Everyone will hear you!” I fish under the bed for my too-flat money sack. “It wasn’t like that,” I say, echoing the protest I made to Mistress Mungon. “Nothing untoward. He just has a way of messing things up, I mean.” My fingers graze the book from Lucas. I slip it in with the rest of my possessions. If things get really bad, I can sell it. The thought makes my heart twist.
A sharp rapping catches our attention. “One more minute, Miss Flanders! And I’ll thank you to be out!” Mistress Mungon’s squawk is loud enough to wake the entire house. I wince at the sound of floorboards creaking and doors swinging on their hinges. The other residents want to catch the drama.
“I’ll come with you,” Chemmy offers.
“No, don’t. It’s too wet; you might catch cold.” I hope my grin looks less ghoulish than it feels. “I’ll give Ungus your regards, though.”
She blushes and hands me the basket from Lucas.
“Chemmy!” I say, peering inside. “You didn’t even eat any of the cheese!”
“You need it more than I do.”
“You’re a darling.” I put my small sack of things into the basket and sigh. “I’d hug you, but you really don’t want to touch this sludge.”
“Go straight to Ungus,” Chemmy instructs. “I’ll meet you tomorrow before work. I want to hear everything .”
Another screech floats up to us, gentle as a hawk with a mouse, and I shrug ruefully. “Tomorrow,” I promise, and head back downstairs.
Mistress Mungon, still grumbling, points me to the door. I don’t say anything as I walk out; I don’t want to cry. She slams the door behind me, the bolt making a decided thud as it locks into place. I stand on the stoop and stare gloomily out into the murky darkness, my only light the gas lamp at the end of the alley.
All is still. Wise people are home in bed right now.
Clearly, I am not wise, which is why I must trudge back down the alley, step by squelching step.
Where did I go so wrong? Have I been cursed, or am I just the greatest fool this city has ever seen? I’ve had nothing but bad luck since I went to that ball—since I met Hugh. My trembling fingers sneak up to touch the ward charm hanging around my neck. I’ll ask Mum to send some fresh folkbane, just in case.
LUCAS
I finished the letter.
I stayed up late last night, working on it, Mother’s talk of wedding arrangements ringing in my ears and the smell of charred oatmeal lingering in my memory. I wish—I wish—
It doesn’t matter.
Although I wrote three drafts, the letter still feels wrong, somehow. Well, no one expects me to be romantic. I made the offer, and that’s all that is required of me.
Or, I will make the offer once I send the letter. It’s still in my breast pocket.
I pat the pocket in question and am reassured to hear the faint crinkle of the envelope. I’ll send it soon, just … not yet. If I wait, I might think of a better way to word everything, make it sound less awkward and stilted. I’m sure Hugh would gladly give me advice; if I thought it would be good advice, maybe I’d ask him.
As if on cue, my brother appears. While I’ve spent the day in meetings with Father and the council of Lords, discussing various economic matters and pointedly not wondering how Miss Flanders is, Hugh’s been doing who-knows-what, and only shows up once I am finally settled in the library with a cup of tea.
“Blasted cold out there,” he says, blustering into the room and stomping over to the fire. His nose is red from the chill. I glance toward the window, where the sky is already dark, although yesterday’s rain finally broke.
“What were you doing out?”
“I rode down to Miss Smith’s house.” He rubs his hands together and blows on his fingers to warm them.
I sip my tea. “After how you treated her yesterday?” Rodering told me that Miss Flanders had, indeed, snuck off without either her tea or her carriage. I should’ve stayed with her and seen that she was taken care of.
“I thought you’d tell me to leave her alone again.” He turns so his back is to the fire, clasping his hands behind him. “Or perhaps ask me how it went.” He wiggles an eyebrow.
I ignore this.
“Well, since you won’t ask, I’ll tell you. She wasn’t there.”
“How disappointing for you.”
“Wasn’t it? I had such high hopes for a pleasant evening.”
A muscle jumps in my jaw. “I thought she’d made her feelings for you clear.”
“I can persuade her.” Hugh winks. “Anyhow, she wasn’t there, and her landlady said she’d moved on, so I don’t know where to find her now.”
“She what?” I sit forward in my chair. Tea sloshes over the side of my cup and scalds my knee. “Moved on?”
“I knew you’d be interested! Yes, just left last night. Very strange!” He sighs. “And now how shall I ever get to kiss her?”
“Her landlady didn’t tell you why she left?”
Hugh shrugs a shoulder. “I didn’t ask.”
“Or where she was going?”
“I didn’t ask that either.”
“Very helpful.” I stand and pace across the room, uneasy. Miss Flanders is lively, impulsive; she’d even mentioned wanting to find a new home. But to leave so unexpectedly? I shake my head. Something seems wrong. I’ll have Rodering send scouts throughout the city, looking for her. And then—
Well, and what then?
I run a hand through my hair.
If Miss Flanders wants my help with whatever she’s facing, she can ask for it. And if she doesn’t want it, I have no business chasing her down, wherever she is. The letter in my pocket, with its clumsy proposal of marriage to Princess Islabetta, rustles as I pace.
Miss Flanders is not my duty.
Except—
Isn’t she a citizen of the land? Doesn’t she deserve my care?
And isn’t she, in some small way, my friend? Can I leave her wandering?
And do I not love her?
My feet still beneath me.
Do I not love her?
My heart beats erratically.
I cannot—I should not—I must not love Miss Flanders. To love her would be inappropriate, injudicious, undutiful, irresponsible.
I’ve stopped my pacing and stand, gazing blankly at the shelves of the library, teeth grinding together so hard I can hear them. From the corner of my vision, I notice Hugh smirking, and I force my face into a neutral expression. “Excuse me,” I say. I must speak to Rodering; he can organize some men to search for Miss Flanders. And then, once I know she’s safe—
I’ll decide what to do about the rest later.