“Mary sold her hair,” Bridget said.
“They paid me ten pounds for it,” Mary said. “But no one wants to fuck you when you look like a man. I still can’t get anyone.”
“But we’re a team,” Bridget said firmly. “We’ll help each other out.”
I liked these women. I didn’t like the cold ground beneath me, or steeling myself against a harsh breeze, but the company was nice. Slowly, one by one, they wrapped themselves in their blankets and fell asleep.
It wasn’t that easy for me, though. My entire body was racked with an aching pain, and my eyes struggled to stay open, but even so, I couldn’t sleep. I reached into my bag and pulled out my book, my fingers tracing the spine. It was too dark in the alley to read the typeface, but I didn’t care. Just having the book in my hands, smelling the scent of my father’s tobacco and my mother’s vanilla, was comforting. As I pulled it to my chest, I was finally able to drift off on the cold ground.
When I woke up the next morning, I was all alone. My body hurt from sleeping on the stone of the alleyway. I slowly rose to standing, my muscles and joints stiff from the constant assault of cold wind. I rolled up my blanket and went to stuff it into my bag when I noticed something was wrong. My bag was gone, along with all of my belongings, everything I had ever owned, and all my food. Hunger burned in my stomach. I hadn’t eaten since before I left the house yesterday.
I looked to see Bridget rushing down the alleyway. “Christine,” she said, “I’m so sorry.”
“Someone took my bag,” I said. “That was everything I had.”
“I know,” she said. She looked like she was about to cry. “I’m so, so sorry. It was Mary. She took a lot of our things while we slept and she’s disappeared. We’ve been looking for her all morning, but I wanted to let you sleep. It seemed like you needed it.”
“Thank you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. What was I supposed to do now? I had no food.
I looked around me. I was about an hour’s walk from the house. It sounded tiring, but my only option was to go back and get more of my things. I stuffed my book in my blanket and wrapped them up as I hurried back across town.
When I arrived at the house, I checked both ways before I turned the handle. It didn’t move. Mr. Douglas had changed the locks. That was annoying, but I knew a solution. There was a window in the kitchen that was broken. We had stuffed it up with old clothes, but it had never been quite enough to keep out the cold. I could slip my hand through, unlatch the window, and crawl inside.
I circled the house and found the window. The clothes were gone, but the window was still broken. I carefully slid my hand inside, moving slowly so as not to cut myself on the sharp glass. My fingers fumbled for the latch, and I heard a click as I unlocked it. I pushed the window open.
My jaw dropped. The room was empty, save for the stove and sink. Everything was gone. All my clothes, my father’s books, everything. Gone. My whole life.
I fell to the ground, my knees unable to hold me up. Tears streamed down my face as the utter desperateness of my situation fell on my shoulders. I had nothing but a blanket and a book, and I had no prospects. If this kept up, I would die soon.
I cried for a long time until I heard someone say my name.
“Christine?”
I assumed it was Bridget, but when I turned, I didn’t recognize this woman. She was tall, blonde hair twisted high upon her head. She looked like she had stepped out of a painting. I couldn’t imagine what someone like her was doing in this dirty, industrial part of the city.
“Yes?”
She extended her hand. “I’m so glad I found you. I’m Annabelle Randolph. Let’s talk.”
“Talk?”
She smiled. “Follow me.”
Without waiting to see if I would, she started down the street. I stood confused for a moment before I followed her. When I caught up, she glanced back at me and smiled again, but I was uneasy, worried I had somehow done something wrong.
“When was the last time you ate?” Annabelle asked me.
“Sometime yesterday,” I said, too shocked to hide my honesty.
“Let’s get you some food, then.”
I was about to ask her who she was, what she was doing, to finally ask the questions I had been too surprised to ask, when we ducked in the doorway of an inn. As we waited to be seated, a man charged toward the front.
“We don’t serve her kind here,” he told Annabelle.
This didn’t faze Annabelle. She took off her cloak, revealing finely tailored clothes that she obviously hadn’t purchased anywhere around here. He paled. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “Please, let me get you a table.”
“What’s going on?” I asked as I sat down. I shifted, self–conscious, sitting in my rags while she sat across from me in her finery. “I don’t have any money for a meal. I can’t afford to eat here.”
Annabelle ignored me. “Your father passed away this last week, didn’t he?” she asked. “How are you holding up?”
I bit my lip. “I’m all right.”
“You’re lying.” She paused. “Did you sleep on the street last night?”
I waited a moment before answering. “Perhaps. No one will hire me.”
“Ah,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “What if I told you that a friend of mine was looking for someone?”
My eyes lit up. “Really?”
“There’s a catch.”
Of course. “I won’t let someone pay me for sex.”
She laughed. “Oh, heavens no!” she said. “The catch is that it’s some travel. It’s a manor called Wolf’s Peak, the home of the Duke of Faolancaster, about five or so hours away.”
Ervine had always been my home. Still, to work for the duke…
“But it would be room and board?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “I’ll give you time to think about it, of course.”
I hesitated. “It’s certainly an intriguing offer, but I have my reservations. I don’t know that I could leave the city.”
“Have you lived in Ervine your whole life?” she asked. This seemed to be less related to employment and more of a genuine attempt at conversation.
“For the most part. When I was very young, we lived in a village outside the city. After my mother died, my father moved us here. We were closer to his parents that way, and he had more patients.”
“I see,” she nodded. “Well, I would hate to tear you away, but please answer me honestly: Do you really have any other choice?”
I waited a beat before answering her. I stayed quiet until a movement caught my eye. A server placed a plate of pastries in the center of the table and poured both of us some tea. My stomach growled and I reached over and grabbed a pastry, engulfing it in just a few minutes. I looked at Annabelle, embarrassed, but she smiled.
“Christine, when was the last time you ate a proper meal?” she asked.
I had to think about it. “Maybe a year ago? Maybe longer?”
“If you come to Wolf’s Peak, you will never go hungry again.”
That gave me pause. A place to lay my head, a full stomach every night?
“I’m not trying to pressure you,” she said. “Do you have a place to sleep tonight?”
I shook my head.
“I’m going to book you a room here and schedule a driver to come pick you up tomorrow. I’ll leave you some money for food as well.”
“You don’t have to do that.” I was desperate, but how could I take such charity from a woman I had just met?
Annabelle stood up from the table. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Christine.”
“I haven’t said yes yet.”
She smiled. “You will.”
Chapter Four
For the first time in years, I woke up in a bed.
Sunlight streamed through the window, making me feel even cozier as I lay wrapped up in the blankets. The pillows were nearly too soft, but I had fallen asleep almost as soon as I laid my head down. I could have s
tayed there all day, cocooned, but there was a knock on the door.
I yawned and stretched and finally thrust the covers back. My bare feet hit the soft rug covering a wooden floor, and I padded over to the door. When I opened it, a young woman stood there with a very heavy–looking bucket of steaming water.
“Hello, miss. I have the bath water you requested,” she said.
I had done no such thing, but I suspected I knew who did. I couldn’t really fault Annabelle for it. I knew how dirty I was. A bath would be nice before I went to see my prospective employer—if I went—and making the request myself would have been awkward.
The young woman poured the bucket carefully into a large tub, adding a splash of cold water from the tap.
“There’s soap on the washbasin, if you haven’t noticed yet,” she said. “And some fresh towels over here. Anything else I can do for you, miss?”
I couldn’t remember the last time someone had doted on me like this. I was a child, probably, and it would have been before my father fell ill. So yes, a while. The whole situation held a strangeness, like I was in another universe.
“I’m all right, thanks,” I told her. She gave me a nod and left me alone.
I pulled off my dress and sank down into the bath. This tub was much larger than the one I’d had at home; I could fit my whole body in if I bent my knees. The water was warm and relaxing as it soothed my aching muscles. I was going to miss this. I doubted the duke let his servants take luxurious baths too often.
As I pondered, I realized I hadn’t asked exactly what position the duke was seeking to fill. Probably some sort of maid. God forbid he needed a cook. Or a gardener! I was terrible with plants, no matter how hard my father tried to teach me. I could name different flowers and herbs, but if I was in charge of keeping them alive, they were shriveled and brown within a week.
My stomach growled, and I realized despite eating full meals yesterday, I was hungry again. Reluctantly I climbed out of the bath and dried myself off with a fluffy white towel. I held it close to my skin; it was softer than any blankets I had ever owned. With the towel wrapped around myself, I picked up the dress I had worn yesterday. I wished I had a different dress to greet my prospective employer with rather than this old, ill–fitting, dingy thing.
If I was going.
I still hadn’t decided.
I pulled the dress on, grateful at the very least that the navy blue was flattering against my porcelain skin. I buttoned it up, then stood in front of the mirror as I brushed my hair. This mirror was clear, not dirty and cracked. That, combined with the bright sunlight, made me wince as I gazed at my reflection. My bones were too prominent, my cheeks hollow, and the bags under my eyes a dark shade of blue that nearly matched my dress. Hopefully, after a few weeks with full meals in my stomach and a proper night’s sleep, I would look a little bit more like my old self.
I laced up my boots, making a note in my mind that my first pay would have to go toward some new footwear. I was in constant fear that the laces would break or one of the thin spots on the sole would finally turn into a hole.
I made my way to the dining room and tucked my folded blanket, with the book sandwiched in the folds inside, under my feet. A server brought out breakfast—eggs and tea and crumpets. As I ate, I knew I had made up my mind. I couldn’t go back to sleeping on the street and eating only a slice of stale bread every day. If I was being honest with myself, I had made my decision a long time ago. There was no way I was going to turn down Annabelle’s offer, no matter how much I pretended otherwise.
I ate the eggs and toast, but I had no more room for the pastries. I stared at them forlornly. After months of so little food, it seemed a pity to let them go to waste. When the server came back around, I caught her attention.
“I’ve got a long journey ahead,” I told her. “Would it be possible to take these with me?”
“Of course, miss,” she said. She disappeared behind a set of double doors and reappeared a moment later with a large napkin for me to wrap the pastries in. I loaded up the pastries, then checked the time. My ride wouldn’t be here for another hour. As I glanced from the clock to my pastries, I had an idea. I grabbed the bundle and my blanket and ventured outside.
The sun felt amazing on my face. For a moment, I wished that I would be able to enjoy it rather than sitting in a stuffy carriage for several hours. But no, this was for the best. A new beginning, one that would provide stability. And food.
I turned down the alley until I found that makeshift camp where I had slept the other night. Most of the girls were gone, but Bridget was there and her eyes lit up when she saw me.
“Christine,” she said. “I wondered what happened to you. I’m so sorry about Mary.”
“It’s all right,” I told her. I held out the pastries. “I’m leaving the city. Could you all use these?”
She took the napkin and looked inside. Her eyes widened, and she put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Christine, I couldn’t take this.”
“Please do. You were all so kind to me. This is the least I can do.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Thank you so much.”
I put a hand on her arm. “Please take care of yourself, yeah?”
She nodded, speechless.
I returned to the inn and sat at a table outside as I waited for my carriage. A soft breeze blew, not strong enough to make me cold, but enough to be soothing.
Right on the hour, a horse and buggy pulled up. The driver stepped out and took a look at me.
“Christine?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” I confirmed.
“To Wolf’s Peak in Faolancaster?”
I nodded.
“Fantastic. Well, strap in. We’re in for a long ride.”
He helped me into the carriage. The interior was plush, made of red velvet. The seats were almost as soft as the inn’s bed had been. I made myself comfortable on the front–facing seat, curling up next to the window so I could watch the scenery go by.
I enjoyed watching my view change from buildings and factories to wildlife and forests. The air was clearer here, too, and smelled fresh. The farther we drove, the darker the sky got. There was a storm brewing ahead of us. After a while, the constant parade of trees became tedious and I allowed myself to drift off to sleep.
When I woke, my neck was stiff from the odd angle I had been resting in. I stretched it out, letting myself yawn. I pulled myself up to gaze better out the window. The trees here were close enough to the road that if I reached my hand out I’d graze their branches. The smell of pine was thick in the air, and the sky was dark, as rain had started to fall. For a moment, I was nostalgic for the sun we’d had earlier in the day back in the city. I reminded myself that this was good for my future.
We never went through a town or a city, which was a surprise. I was curious to know what the other cities of Faolancaster were like. Instead, we traversed through continually narrowing roads until the carriage stopped in front of a massive home.
My jaw dropped as I stepped out, my hands clutching my few belongings. The home was gorgeous, made of stone, with arches and turrets. When I was younger, my father had brought me to the homes of some of his wealthier patients, but even they hadn’t lived in anything this expansive or impressive. For a moment, I hoped my job would be in the kitchen instead of a maid. I was sure I’d get lost in there.
The driver led me to the door and knocked on the massive, bronze handles. The door swung open and a portly man stood there. In any other situation, he would seem large, but he was dwarfed by the massive door. Was this the duke?
“And you would be Christine, I imagine?” he asked. “You’re the last to arrive. I’m Mr. Potter, the duke’s butler.”
“The last?” How many others were there?
He ushered me inside. “Announcing Miss Christine Croft,” he said.
I didn’t know where to look first. The entry was spacious, a grandiose mahogany staircase curling up to the next level. The ceilings were tall,
and the dark wooden floors were covered with an oriental rug thick under my feet. On top of all that, the room was filled with people.
“Miss?” a woman snickered from across the room. “Just miss? What is she doing here?”
There was a hand on my arm, and I turned to see Annabelle there. “Never mind her,” she whispered.
“Ladies, thank you so much for joining us,” she said, raising her voice so it echoed off the high ceiling. “Mr. Potter will see you all to your rooms. We’ll begin everything tomorrow.”
“Where’s the duke?” one woman called out in a nasal voice. She was standing next to the woman who had spoken earlier. She wore a pale blue dress embossed with gold paisley, with her red hair piled on her head. Her friend was dressed just as finely, in a pink dress with her blonde hair pulled back. Both had mouths pressed into a thin line and narrowed eyes. I had a feeling we wouldn’t be friends.
“The duke will be returning from business tonight,” Annabelle said. “As I stated before, you will see him tomorrow.”
“What sort of business?” she pressed. “Is he with the prince?”
Annabelle sighed. “What was your name?”
“Hattie Thorn,” she said proudly.
“Well, Hattie, the duke’s business is none of your business.”
“But if one of us is to be married to him, shouldn’t we know?”
I looked between them. Had I been brought here to serve these ladies? What was going on?
I turned to Annabelle. “What—”
“Hattie, is your mother involved in everything your father does for business?” Annabelle asked.
Hattie’s face flushed pink like her gown. “Well, no, of course, it’s not women’s work—”
“So why on earth would you expect that we would tell you what the duke is doing? You aren’t his wife. He hasn’t even met you yet.”
“Well,” Hattie said, holding her head high. She seemed to have regained some of her composure. “He will tomorrow.”
The Wolf's Wife (The Wolf's Peak Saga Book 1) Page 4