Mrs. Beale swept from the room without waiting for an answer. Miss Parkinson shrugged off the bodice and tossed it into the table.
“Moving up in the world from barmaid to seamstress, are you?” she said as she started to dress again.
Maisie didn’t answer. She was surprised to hear the woman’s voice, as it was the one she’d heard in the gardens the night before.
“I wish to speak with you, alone,” Miss Parkinson said. “Meet me in the gardens, at the statue, as near to seven as possible. Please don’t be late because I have an engagement after that.”
She was in her dress again, buttoning up the bodice. She smiled at Maisie before she left, and Maisie stared after her. She had an engagement tonight? Something was happening here that confused Maisie. Was Miss Parkinson a student, or was she a member of the staff? And if she was, why were they making her a Cinderella costume?
“Don’t question things,” she said as she started to tidy her work area. “Just continue to work and make money.”
“Good advice.”
Maisie turned to find Mr. Cummings standing in the doorway.
“Mrs. Glover, I hear you’re working like the devil is at your back,” Mr. Cummings said. “You completed a whole bodice today.”
Once again he’d come into the room and she hadn’t heard him.
“Mrs. Beale said it needed to be completed quickly,” she said.
“Indeed.” He sat down in a chair and crossed his legs at the ankles. “I came to tell you I’ve admonished the gardener for leaving dirt clods and rocks on the path,” he said. “If you desire to visit the statue again you shouldn’t meet the ground once more.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said. She would be visiting that garden again tonight, just before seven. But she didn’t want to tell him that.
“I’m happy to see that you’re so conscientious in finishing your work,” he said. “It seems I made the right decision.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Enjoy your dinner, and we shall see you in the morning,” he said. “I should say, if you require anything, please take care of it before supper. We prefer that the halls are quiet after dinner.”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
When he was gone, Maisie hurried to clean the area. Then she went to her room and changed into one of the few dresses she owned. When she entered the dining room, people were already sitting down to eat. She listened as the other staff members talked about their day. They didn’t seem interested in including her in the conversation, so she kept her gaze on her plate and ate slowly.
When the meal was over she went out the door and headed to the garden. The night was cool, and Maisie wished she’d brought a wrap, even if hers wasn’t in the best of shape. But there was no time to think of that now. She needed to make this appointment and then be back in her room as soon as possible so she didn’t break Mr. Cummings’s edict.
Miss Parkinson was already there when Maisie arrived. She wore a lilac dress that didn’t seem to be appropriate for this time of night. Once again Maisie could see that she wasn’t the proper age for a student. She was not that much younger than Maisie’s thirty-three.
“I don’t suppose you brought me a cherry cobbler?” Miss Parkinson said.
“Of course not,” Maisie said.
The younger woman laughed. “Too bad, because I could definitely use one. Did Jack send you?”
“Who?” Maisie asked. She realized after the word left her mouth that it was too late to try and play dumb. Miss Parkinson knew Maisie had recognized her.
“Do not play stupid with me, you twit,” Miss Parkinson said. “He sent you to spy on me, didn’t he? Well, you let him know that I will get the item in my own time, and he will wait for me, or our deal is over.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Maisie said.
“Tell Jack that we work on my time, not his. Use those exact words. I don’t expect an answer, nor do I care to hear one.” Miss Parkinson rushed past her before Maisie could say another word. What was she talking about? Him, and an item? Maisie wanted to run after her and let Miss Parkinson know she’d made a mistake. Maisie was not working with Jack. She was hiding from him.
But then she stopped and thought for a moment. If she upset Miss Parkinson there was every chance she would tell Jack that Maisie was at the school, and she didn’t want him to know that. Miss Parkinson was not expecting an answer, and she wouldn’t get one, because Maisie had no intention of delivering her message to the Poke and Bear.
Maisie turned and started back. She tried to put recent events into perspective.
First, she’d heard Miss Parkinson, a person it turned out she knew from the Poke and Bear, in the gardens. She and another woman seemed to be up to something, although Maisie didn’t know what. Second, Mr. Cummings seemed to be quite concerned about her trip to the garden last night. And now, Miss Parkinson was threatening Maisie and thought Jack had sent her to spy on the woman.
What was it Maisie, as the alleged spy, was supposed to see? Maisie had no clue. All she knew was she had thought this would be a place where she could hide from Jack, and it turned out his presence was haunting her.
Would she have to leave Bath? She certainly hoped not. She’d lived here for her whole life, and had never had a desire to live elsewhere.
Of course if it came down to it she could move to the Americas to live with her mother, but she would need money for passage, which meant staying at the school. To do that she needed to stay in her sewing room and do what she was told and not get into any trouble.
Once she was inside she looked out at the dark night. The clock stuck eight, and she sighed. It was too early for her to go to bed. Mr. Cummings had said they liked to keep things quiet after the evening meal.
Perhaps tomorrow she would ask for permission to peruse the library and see if she could find a book to read. Her mother had stressed how important it was to read, and had taught Maisie to enjoy the written word. Tonight she would go to her room and try to get some sleep. That was if she could calm down her mind.
She kept thinking of Miss Parkinson’s accusation that Maisie was at the school to spy for Jack. But that wasn’t the only thing confusing her. She didn’t know much about finishing schools, but she had the feeling that Miss Parkinson was far too old to be enrolled in one.
Something wasn’t right here, and Maisie wondered if she’d stepped from one problem into another. But she wasn’t sure how she could figure it out.
Maisie stepped into the kitchen and she stopped in her tracks when Mr. Cummings, his voice dark and menacing, said, “Where have you been?”
She looked around but didn’t see him anywhere. It wasn’t until she heard Miss Parkinson say, “I went for a walk,” that Maisie realized he wasn’t speaking to her. She sighed in relief and started for the stairs so she could hurry to her room.
But something made her stop so she could hear what these two had to say to each other. As quietly as she could she crept toward the hallway that led from the kitchen to the dining room, which was where the two were standing.
“You went for a walk?” Maisie looked to where they stood. She could see his expression of disbelief highlighted by the gas lamp on the wall. “You know better. Unless you have a lesson, or an appointment, you are to stay in your room after dinner.”
“I get tired of being cooped up in my room,” Miss Parkinson said. “I’m not like the other girls. I can’t sit while they read books to each other, or draw, or write. I want to do things. I want to be around people, and not just the girls as they laugh and giggle.”
“You went outside and left the door unlocked,” he said. “It’s not the first time you’ve done it, but it will be the last. It is against the rules, as you know.”
“I must have forgotten,” Miss Parkinson said. “Spank me if you must.”
“You would enjoy that too much,” Mr. Cummings said. “You know what the punishment will be.”
There was silence for quit
e some time before Mr. Cummings said, “To the library, now.”
“As you wish,” Miss Parkinson said.
Maisie waited until she heard them moving away from her, then she crept into the hallway to follow. She knew it was the wrong thing to do, but she wanted to see what would happen. Obviously, Miss Parkinson would be punished, but how? When they entered the room she stopped, realizing there was no way she would be able to see things, because if she stepped inside they would both see her.
She peeked in. The library was large, with large bookcases stacked with tomes against two walls. The hearth was wide, and Maisie saw the embers of a recently deceased fire in the grate. There were two tables at the back, and while their backs were turned, Maisie dove under the first one, trying to stay as quiet as possible.
“You know what to do,” Mr. Cummings said. There were chairs in front of her, so Maisie didn’t have a good view. But she heard the rustling of clothing, and she frowned.
“How far?” Miss Parkinson asked.
“All of it,” he said.
Maisie’s eyes widened. He wanted her naked? What in the blue devil was happening? She didn’t really want to stay, but if she tried to leave now he would see her. If he was punishing Miss Parkinson for being outside, what would he do to Maisie for spying on them, for doing exactly what Miss Parkinson had accused her of doing for Jack?
“Corner.” The one-word command sounded harsh.
Maisie watched as Miss Parkinson’s feet moved away from her hiding place. “Legs apart, hands behind your back, nose against the wall,” he ordered. More rustling. Maisie wondered where he was, because she could no longer see his feet. If she tried to leave would he see her? Was it worth the chance?”
“Tell me why you were outside,” he said.
Maisie imagined Miss Parkinson standing there naked, in the position he’d ordered.
“I told you, I went for a walk in the garden.”
“Answer me truthfully, or I’ll call the committee to order.”
The committee? What had he meant by that?
“Call them,” Miss Parkinson said, as if she were telling him to serve her tea. “I don’t care.”
“And why is that?” he asked. “You are up to something; I’ve known it for weeks now.”
“Me?” Miss Parkinson laughed. “The only reason I’m in this God-forsaken place is because of you. I’ve been here for almost a month. I didn’t learn to do the nasty things that old man wanted just to have to come back here and put up with the likes of you!”
“He sent you back because you didn’t please him,” Mr. Cummings said. “Do not blame me for your failures. You were taught to perform as he wanted. Why did you start disobeying?”
There was a pregnant pause. Maisie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was this some sort of brothel? No, brothels didn’t teach people, at least Maisie didn’t think they did.
“My legs and back ache,” Miss Parkinson finally said.
“Why won’t you answer me?” His voice was soft this time. “You were one of our best students. Before your graduation, Mr. Peatree told me you sucked cock like a perfect angel. He said you took him every which way it was possible for a woman to open herself to a man, and you always begged for more. He said you took a whipping and then begged to be fucked. Now tell me, what changed? Was it Mr. Peatree you were hungry for? Were you turned off by Lord James’s prick? You loved his money and the townhouse he bought for you in London. Please, tell me what turned you into a shrew who refused to serve him.”
Miss Parkinson didn’t answer.
Maisie wanted so much to run from this room—not just this room, from this house. She had gone from one bad situation to another. Anger shot through her, not only at herself for not checking things out better, but to Mr. Cummings, and Mrs. Beale, who had not been truthful with her. She wondered if the other staff members knew what this place was; if they did, how could they stay?
“I can be your next Mrs. Beale. After all, I’m twenty-six years old. I’m practically on the shelf. I could be a great teacher for your ladies,” Miss Parkinson finally said. “Don’t send me back to him, please.”
“He expects you to come back,” Mr. Cummings said. “He paid for your training, and he expects you to take what he gives. If you don’t want to go back to London, you need to find funds to reimburse him for the money he’s put out.”
“Vanessa, you came to us,” Mr. Cummings finally said. “We do not search out students. They come of their own free will, and that includes you. We do not force a girl to stay with the man who selects her. That was your own free choice. When the baron offered to be your patron you’d already had sex with him. I cannot help you unless you describe the problem.”
Mr. Cummings didn’t seem angry any longer. In fact, he seemed sad, as if he’d failed at what he’d started.
“I would be good at training,” Miss Parkinson—no, Vanessa—finally said. “I’ve taught some of the other girls things. Please, keep me on your staff and I’ll work off the money I owe him. Please, Mr. Cummings. I will service you if you like. I can bend over the desk right now and take your prick up my bum. I know you like it that way.”
“Shall I call the committee, or not?” he responded. “They can be here tomorrow evening and we can decide what to do then.”
Was it her imagination or was Miss Parkinson crying? Was that her real name, Maisie wondered? Maisie was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Miss Parkinson was twenty-six years old, and it was obvious that the school for girls was really a school to train courtesans.
Chapter 3
Long after Mr. Cummings and Vanessa had left the room, Maisie stayed where she was, hugging her knees to her chest and wondering how she’d come to find herself in such a horrid situation.
How could it have happened? More to the point, why had Mr. Cummings not told her about the real purpose of this school when he’d hired her? That question was easy to answer—because she would have fled as if the very fires of Hell were after her.
Or would she? The only other place she had to go was back to the Poke and Bear, and that was out of the question. Was it just a coincidence that Jack had tried to turn her into a lady of the evening, and she’d ended up working at an establishment that trained courtesans? How had that happened? Or had it been planned? Maisie shook off the idea. Vanessa had been surprised to see her, and there was no way Jack knew about her seeking out other employment, since she’d just decided to do it after he’d threatened to sell her to a customer.
She didn’t think it was possible; even if it was, there was no way out of it now. That’s what she needed to concentrate on, a way to get out of here. She didn’t have enough money to leave the school. If she did that, she would have to flee Bath, too. Something told her Jack would be looking for her. The only place she could possible hide from him was in London. She didn’t have enough money to keep a roof over her head and food in her belly while she searched for other employment.
The only option open for her was to stay here and hoard all the money she earned. How long would it take her to earn enough to go to London? Having never been to London she wasn’t sure how much it would cost for her to find rooms; and then there was food, and clothing.
Despair washed over her as she thought about her situation. The best thing she could do was act as if nothing had changed. That shouldn’t be difficult since they had not informed her of the school’s real purpose, she didn’t have to act any differently. She just needed to sew the gowns they required and mend the outfits that needed repaired. She would keep to herself and things would be fine.
The clock struck ten, and Maisie gasped in surprise. Had she been sitting here that long, thinking about how to get herself out of her situation? She looked out from under the table. It was dark, so dark that she wondered how she would get from here to her room in the basement without tripping down the stairs.
Should she try and find a candle? Or just stay on her hands and knees and feel her way to the
kitchen. Surely there would be light from there. If not, when she reached the staircase she could sit on her bum and bump her way down.
Deciding it was best to go without a light, she stayed on her knees until she reached the doorway. There was an inkling of light in the direction of the kitchen, so she stood and walked slowly. She’d just made the doorway between the dining room and the hallway when a noise made her stiffen.
“What are you doing, Mrs. Glover?”
Maisie looked to where Mr. Cummings sat at the table. An empty glass was on the table, next to a candle.
“I was… I couldn’t sleep.”
“Really?” He got up and went to a cupboard where he took down a bottle of an amber liquid. He reached for another glass and then went back to the table where he filled them both.
“Join me,” he said.
“I don’t drink,” she said.
“Oh come now, I’m sure you took a drop or two at the Poke and Bear.” He pushed one of the glasses toward a chair opposite him. “Please sit, and tell me what you’ve really been doing.”
Maisie didn’t want to tell him the truth; if he found out she’d spied on him she wouldn’t have to worry about any of the things that had keep her occupied for the last hours. He would fire her on the spot, she was sure of that. But she didn’t know the house well enough to say she’d been anywhere else, so she had to tell him she’d been in the library, didn’t she?
How long had he been sitting at the table? Could she say she’d just gone through this room not long ago? If so, he wouldn’t think she’d seen him and Vanessa have their confrontation.
“I’m very restless,” she said. “I didn’t want to go outside because it would leave the house open.” She was happy she’d remembered Mr. Cummings admonishing Vanessa for leaving the door unlocked.
“How long have you been wandering the house?” he asked. He inclined his head toward the chair. “Please, sit down.”
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