A House of Repute

by E M Jones

  “Yes, she is. And I’d be lost without her.”

  Lizzie admired Charlie as she walked towards a table and placed herself on a chair so Beatrix could inhabit her lap.

  “Why does she go back to her if she’s been hurt by her?” Mary continued to study Charlie as she spoke.

  Beatrix was guffawing at a friend’s conversation, a cup of wine in one hand and the other arm draped around Charlie’s shoulder.

  “I thought the same, Mary. But we have to work. And there are a lot worse than Beatrix. She isn’t mean to Charlie; I think she likes her quite a lot. She just knows that she’s paying, so she can have what she wants. She wouldn’t deliberately hurt Charlie. Charlie can look after herself with someone like that, and she has a regular customer. She’d be silly to avoid Beatrix.”

  “It doesn’t seem right that she knows she might be hurt and still carries on.”

  Lizzie inhaled deeply before answering. “She might get hurt a little. But Beatrix is just having a good time; Charlie’s with someone who actually likes her company and pays on time. Mrs Henry likes her because of that and doesn’t mind that Charlie attracts some unusual customers. The ones we have to avoid are the ones who are out to hurt us, who don’t actually like us, and whose pleasure is seeing us in pain. It’s when you meet one of those that you get away as soon as possible and don’t—”

  “Hello. Could I buy you some wine?”

  Lizzie and Mary turned to answer the question.

  A young man with light hair was bowing towards Mary with a hopeful smile. “And your companion, of course.”

  Lizzie smiled. “No, thank you. I have another engagement tonight. But please, take my seat.”

  She rose and moved to make space, her definite movements cutting through Mary’s hesitation. “Please. Join Mary. I hope you have a good evening.”

  Lizzie strode towards Johnny. At the doorway, she turned around and saw that the young man was tall, not very much older than Mary and had a boyish face. He was speaking intently with Mary, looking into her eyes. She would be alright.

  “Quiet night, Lizzie?”

  “So far.”

  “Why don’t you stay here with me for a bit? You might tempt in a few more customers for both of us.”

  Lizzie looked up towards Johnny and saw his big, kind smile and no sarcasm. She smiled back. “I’ll do my best for us, Johnny.”

  The large man and small woman stood in comfortable silence for a while. More customers made their way from the alleys, taverns and bottle shops of London into The Alhambra. Lizzie gazed through the archway leading to the music hall again. The Alhambra was back to normal. Smoke streamed into the streets, flowing with the sound of indulgence and abandon. More people were drawn in by this vapour, and Lizzie received many lewd smiles and nods of appreciation on entering the music hall. Yet she still stood with Johnny, his figure large and distinct amongst the vapour.

  “Will Mary be alright, then?”

  Lizzie turned towards Johnny. “Um, yes.” She had almost forgotten in his quiet company that he could converse.

  “Good. Tough at the start I would think.”

  “Yes.”

  “You and Charlie are used to it. You look after yourselves.”

  “Yes.”

  Charlie had long left, led out by Beatrix, her arm threaded through Charlie’s and pulling her only a little as they walked out of The Alhambra.

  “You should still be careful, Lizzie.”

  Lizzie looked up and saw worry lined into Johnny’s soft face.

  “I am, Johnny. You know that.”

  “I do, but, well, you know—things can happen.”

  Dina’s regal presence filled the entrance hall of The Alhambra.

  “Yes, they can.” Lizzie moved a little closer to Johnny.

  “Stick here with me tonight. We’ll make a few bob, one way or another.”

  Johnny stood with his hands behind his back and stepped a little further into the street. He looked up and down before retracing his ambling steps back towards Lizzie. “Any more ideas about what happened to Dina?”

  “No.” Guilt blushed Lizzie’s cheeks as she answered. “I’m not sure what we can do. We’ve spoken to everyone we can.” There had been no further visits from the police detectives, despite Mrs Henry’s welcome.

  “We’ll keep at it, though—won’t we, Lizzie?”

  “Yes, Johnny.”

  Lizzie’s definite answer un-creased some of the worry written across Johnny’s face.

  “Oi!”

  Lizzie jumped as Johnny’s shout and movement happened instantaneously, grabbing a small creature trying to run into the music hall. He swung his arm to throw the creature out.

  “Get out, you toe rag. No place for you here. No thieves, no pickpockets and no children!”

  Johnny’s arm reached the height of its arc that would send the creature to the other side of the road.

  “No! Stop! I’m not coming in.”

  Johnny moved the creature in front of his face like a mechanical crane. “Then what are you doing?”

  “I’m… I’m looking for someone. I’ve got a message, an urgent one.”

  “Well, go on then.”

  “From Mrs Henry. She says to tell Johnny that Lizzie needs to come quickly. A peer of the realm has called for her.”

  Johnny circled the filthy small child towards Lizzie. “Got the message, Lizzie?”

  “Yes, thanks, Johnny.”

  Johnny placed the boy carefully down, his feet touching the ground like a ballet dancer’s. “There’s a penny for you—now on your way.”

  The boy smiled at Johnny and ran back into the street.

  “I’ll be off then, Johnny,” Lizzie said. “See you soon.”

  “Take care, Lizzie.”

  Lizzie smiled and hopped out of The Alhambra, walking quickly towards an unexpected customer.

  28

  A murky glow was trying to peek in through the fabric that covered the window. Charlie looked to her right. Beatrix slept deeply, her face a little puffed, her hair tousled and released from its sculpted form of the night before.

  Charlie slipped out of bed and stepped carefully downstairs. The light came into the kitchen over the yard wall. It still provided a little of summer’s warmth, but the floor tiles were cold on Charlie’s feet. It made the kitchen air feel a little continental—a tinge of terracotta, like a warm, exotic country—but there was no mistaking the smog. The warm orange was tinged with dirt to remind Charlie she was very much in London. Rather than glowing in an amber light, the kitchen was somewhat hidden by a brown mist.

  Charlie filled a pot to boil and sat at the table. Her elbows found their place on its worn wood, and she watched as the murky glow rose over the yard wall and attempted to lift the layer of smog that hovered over the city.

  “Charlie?”

  She jumped a little, her elbows slipping out of place. “Mrs H, good morning. You’re up early.”

  Charlie rose and led Mrs Henry to her chair at the table. She found that they had a little tea and started making a pot. Mrs Henry’s elbows found their worn cups in the wood and she took over Charlie’s duty in staring at the light struggling over the yard wall.

  “I hope I didn’t wake you, Mrs H.” Charlie pattered around the kitchen.

  “No, Charlie. I don’t sleep as much as I used to. When you get older, it’s as if your body knows that it needs to make the most of the time it has left. But then by that afternoon, you’re tired and can’t really enjoy making the most of it anyway.”

  Charlie placed a cup of dark tea between Mrs Henry’s elbows. “You’ll be here a while yet. What would London be without you?”

  Mrs Henry continued to stare at the yard wall, and Charlie resumed her position. They sat like two tired guards, sipping their tea at regular intervals.

  “I hope to be here, Charlie. But you girls will go on without me. There will be a new mistress of the house—you, perhaps.”

  “Thanks, but I don�
��t think I’ll be mistress of anything. Lizzie maybe. I’m better out and about. Lizzie’s the organised one. But that won’t be for a while yet.”

  Mrs Henry nodded. “The two of you will do very well together. Lizzie is the quiet beauty, and now that she has been Sir Glynne’s paramour, she will be sought by all of high society. Unless he decides that he wants her for himself. And you—you do very well for yourself. You know how to put on the show, and you don’t mind people who like something a bit… a bit different.”

  Light slowly seeped into the kitchen, but the murk remained, the sun unsuccessful in lifting the dirt from the streets and buildings.

  “Was it busy last night?” Mrs Henry asked.

  “No. Quiet. Oddly quiet. We went to The Alhambra. My lady friend is here.”

  “Very good. Lizzie was called upon again by Sir Glynne. I sent word and she went to him late last night.”

  “He likes her, then.”

  “He does, and lucky for her.”

  “And for us. You’ve done it again, Mrs H—you’ve wooed the aristocracy.”

  “Not me—you girls. Lizzie, you, Mary, Dina. I have good girls.”

  Both women studied the yard as if searching for something there that had escaped them.

  “She’d be out there now with her cold water.”

  Charlie nodded towards the bucket, which stood empty and still. “Yes, she would.”

  “You should go to your lady friend. She shouldn’t wake up alone.”

  “Yes, Mrs H.” Charlie placed her cup in the sink and patted up the stairs. She turned at the top. Mrs Henry’s back remained still, her gaze on the bucket in the murky yard.

  ***

  The front door closed behind Beatrix, and Charlie skipped her way back to the kitchen. Mrs Henry seemed frozen in place at the table. Mary sat to her right, and the cup of tea in front of the old woman was steaming. Charlie passed the money in her hand to Mrs Henry, who nodded in thanks and secreted it away in seconds like a conjuror.

  “Morning, Mary,” Charlie said, taking her seat.

  “Morning, Charlie.” Mary’s face had healed a little, her injured side bruised still but less swollen. Her cheek was apparent again, and the dip down towards her chin. Her eyes seemed brighter as well.

  “Everything alright last night?”

  “Yes, thanks. And you?”

  “T’riffic. And Lizzie was called to see the aristocracy again!”

  “I think Sir Glynne has taken a liking to her.” Mrs Henry spoke as the authority on the matter.

  “Did it get busy at The Alhambra after I left?” Mary asked.

  “A bit busier. Bea’s gang had no competition for their usual spot, so I saw all the parts of all the dancing girls. Johnny said you left with a young-looking chap who didn’t seem mean. Your face looks better.”

  Mary reddened once more in response to Charlie’s concern. “It is, thank you.”

  “Mary spent the evening with a generous and courteous gentleman, Charlie,” Mrs Henry said proudly. “She is already earning a name for herself as a refined and gentle beauty.”

  “Which is more than can be said for me!” Charlie grinned. “Do you think I’ll ever be known as a refined and gentle beauty?”

  Mary laughed, only wincing a little, and Mrs Henry tutted. “Charlie, how you are at all profitable with that attitude, I do not know. You’re lucky that there are customers like your lady friend who are willing to tolerate you.”

  “I am, Mrs H, the odd and desperate—my speciality!”

  Mary giggled and Mrs Henry exhaled in exasperation. Charlie smiled at her audience.

  Mrs Henry rose. “Right, girls, we need to finish getting the house ready for the regular customers today. Charlie, don’t touch my china. Mary, could you please clean the more delicate items? Charlie, could you please tell Lizzie it’s time to get up now. She may be a companion to a peer of the realm, but she’s not above doing the dusting, and you can’t be trusted on your own.”

  ***

  “She’s not there.” Charlie’s stampede down the stairs rang like an alarm through the building. Her face was flushed.

  “Lizzie? Has she gone out?” Redness rose from Mrs Henry’s collar.

  “No, we’ve been up since before dawn, Mrs Henry, and the bed hasn’t been slept in.”

  “She may still be with Sir Glynne.”

  “Is that what he said, Mrs Henry? Was it in the message?”

  “No. But he is a peer of the realm. He doesn’t need my permission to have Lizzie stay with him.”

  “But she’s one of your girls. And we don’t know where she is.”

  “Don’t worry yet. She’ll be fine. Lizzie’s sensible.”

  Charlie stared at Mrs Henry, anger and fear fighting over her expression. “She may not be fine, Mrs Henry. It is time to worry. I’m going to get Johnny.”

  Charlie stormed out of the house and ran. Mrs Henry sat again at the table, the erosions in the wood holding up her arms.

  ***

  Johnny saw the elf with its arms flailing propelling towards him and ran to meet her.

  “Charl, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s Lizzie. She’s not here.” Charlie bent over and heaved for breath. She stood up and leaned on Johnny’s arm. “I don’t know where she is, Johnny. She didn’t come back last night.”

  “Alright, Charl. We’ll find her.” Johnny held Charlie by both arms as her breathing subsided. “You know she went to Sir Glynne, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Mrs Henry said. But he didn’t say anything about her staying.”

  “Does he—does he have to say?”

  “He doesn’t have to, but he used to, with Dina.”

  “Right, well, we should check there first. And if she’s not there, we’ll get some people out to look for her. Is there anywhere she’d go for a walk or to meet someone?”

  “No. It’s too early. She doesn’t like getting up early. How will we go to Sir Glynne’s, Johnny? How do we get in? I can’t exactly knock on the door and ask to speak to Elizabeth. How do we check?”

  “I’ll go. I can pretend I’m delivering something. Where does he live?”

  “I don’t know! I don’t go to the houses of these people. I’m here with you, you know that!”

  “Alright, Charl. Alright. Let me think for a minute.”

  Johnny squeezed Charlie between his hands, as if the answer to their quandary would spring up from her head if he clutched her shoulders in the right way.

  “Right, Charl. I’ll see David; he knows everyone. You need to find that army friend of Lizzie’s—Ted. He might know some officer who knows people high up who knows these sirs. Meet me and David back here and bring that Ted.”

  Charlie turned, ready to carry out her instructions, but then turned back. “I can’t lose her, Johnny. I can’t lose her as well.”

  Johnny stepped towards Charlie and took her small hand in his, enveloping it entirely. “You’re not going to, Charlie. We’re going to find her.”

  They turned away simultaneously, and Charlie started to run back the way she had come.

  “Charlie!” Johnny woke the street as he was struck by inspiration. “Mrs Henry. She’ll know where Sir Glynne lives. Go back, ask her for the house—and then get the soldier! I’ll come to meet you at Mrs Henry’s!”

  Over the filthy street, Charlie gazed into Johnny’s eyes and absorbed his determination into hers. “Right, I’ll be there with Ted. Hurry, Johnny.”

  29

  Something unfamiliar crept into Lizzie’s hearing. The sounds were not alarming: a rhythmic brushing and then something light falling, like a packet of cards opened and dropped accidently. She contemplated just ignoring the noise but conceded to the nibbling urge questioning her safety and opened one eye. The door closed gently, the handle moved into place by someone on the other side to keep it that way.

  Lizzie took in the half of the room she could see, and saw that the fire had been lit. She closed her eye again. The bed held her like a ship
on a calm sea. She swayed between sleep and wakefulness, making no attempt to force her mind towards consciousness. She turned over and tucked herself further into the blanket that held on to her and comforted her towards sleep. Like a swaddled baby, her form lay in the middle of the bed, still and warm.

  Comfort. That had been Lizzie’s conclusion last night, and half-asleep, she held by it. The main benefit of wealth was comfort. The carriage that had fetched her seemed designed to transport her with minimal disruption or effort; the servants fetched anything she desired; Sir Glynne’s private parlour created quiet calm, warmth and a place to relax, a haven from the bustling city outside his home; this bed could lull a screaming toddler to sleep.

  Lizzie stretched out her legs underneath the covering and enjoyed the sensation of the soft fabric stroking her skin. She stretched out her arms above the blankets; the air was a little cold, and she clenched her hands and snapped them back into their swaddling. Had Dina lain here? It had not occurred to her until then, as her arms reached high onto the head of the bed.

  One of Lizzie’s eyes looked out from the cave of blankets to check that her friend was no longer in the room. The fire burned, crackling gently; the rest of the room was still. Lizzie’s eye closed, and she breathed in, inhaling the stillness of the room. Her mind conjured up her friend, tall and austere. She pictured her sitting in Sir Glynne’s carriage, walking his halls, sitting in his private parlour. Dina fitted here better than Lizzie. She had had grace, glamour, a naturally haughty air and sense of entitlement. Lizzie could imagine her dismissing servants, gliding into the ballroom and conversing captivatingly with Sir Glynne.

  Lizzie’s form under the covering morphed into a ball in the middle of the bed. She was small, a little pretty and unfinished. Keeping her eyes shut, she breathed steadily. She smelled the clean blankets and tried to steady herself against the firm mattress. She felt the soft fabric on her face, its texture a contrast to her worn and weathered blankets at Mrs Henry’s. Her face flinched at the sensation. It was no good pretending any longer.

  Lizzie got up.

  ***

  “Mrs Henry! She might be hurt! She might be dead! Think about what happened to Dina!”