Perdita (7 page)

“I have a good mind to send a note off to your father to come and take us home,” I said, pink to the ears.

“Oh no, Molly.
This
is only for a few more days. Mr. Croft would be forever.”

“Let us find a quiet, dark corner, then, and wait till Angie is finished with her—her business.”

Perdita accepted the command in theory, but in fact, she cast such bold and inviting smiles over her naked shoulder that we were not long alone in our private corner. Half a dozen under-bred males came trotting over to ply her with stares, ale, compliments, and propositions. I did not escape entirely myself. A person in a snuff-colored jacket and green waistcoat, the oldest and seediest of the lot, actually, asked me frankly, “How much?” For what, you may imagine. He was quite insistent, too. In desperation, I beckoned to O’Reilly, who made short shrift of him.

“Better take the hint, Mister, ‘fore you get the kick,” was his polite manner of explaining the situation.

This disgusting interlude caused me to divert my attention from Perdita for a moment. The man who fancied myself his type was not small. Half full of liquor, he was ready to invite O’Reilly to step outside. My hope was to prevent outright violence, which would bring the constable down on our heads. Mick paced the hall, alert for just such difficulty as I was causing. He paced towards us, and when he learned the nature of the wrangle, said softly aside to me, “Why do you not oblige him, Mol? You wanted a room for the night. Here is your chance. You can keep your fee. We have no contract signed.”

“I don’t want a room that badly, sir,” I told him. When O’Reilly finally got rid of the man, I turned back to see Perdita wearing a radiant smile. She was not making sport of my predicament, but smirking at someone across the room. I looked to see what hedgebird she was encouraging, and found myself gazing at the city buck from last night. He was alone this time, having left his friend behind. He was again outfitted in his elegant black evening clothes, jacket and pantaloons. His eyes rested on Perdita, transfixed. He was not so intoxicated on this occasion. He was not flushed, or stumbling, but striding towards her at a rapid gait. I looked about in alarm for some spot to hide her, and found none.

Suddenly he was there, at our side, making a graceful bow, smiling, devouring her with his blue eyes. "Hello, April,” he said, in a besotted voice.

"Good evening, sir. You have the advantage of me. I do not know
your
name,” she answered, with a bold smile, while lifting the big ostrich fan to bat at him in a playful way.

“Mr. Brown, at your service, ma’am,” he replied, repeating his bow.

“Another Mr. Brown!” I said hastily, inserting myself between the two of them. “What a popular name it is hereabouts. I have not met a thing but Joneses and Browns all night long.” Naturally the men did not dare to give their real names, any more than we did ourselves.

He cast one annoyed flicker of a glance at me, before stepping aside to get at Perdita. “This is my chaperone, Molly,” she told him.

“Delighted, ma’am,” he said, again just barely glancing at me. “May I join you?” he went on, turning back to the Incomparable.

“We don’t charge for the use of a chair,” was her saucy reply, picked up from Queen Phoebe.

“I wager you charge plenty for—other privileges,” he said boldly, occupying the chair beside her.

Phoebe was moving across the hall, playing off her old tricks to attract attention, but without any luck whatsoever. I looked in alarm to see where I should station myself, either on Perdita’s other side, or his. I judged him to be the more dangerous, and darted to get the chair, just beating Phoebe to it by a hair. I fully expected his next comment would be to inquire the price of those “other privileges.” He was more refined than the snuff-coated man. “I am desolate to have missed your performance this evening,” he was saying. “I was obliged to attend a very dull party. I hope you are flattered to learn I have dashed twenty-five miles to be here.”

“Where is your friend tonight?” Perdita asked, while the hovering Phoebe was on the alert for his reply.

"Come now,
that
is not what I want to hear! Never mind my friend. You are wearing a different gown this evening. I preferred you in red. It suited you better.”

“Molly thought it was vulgar,” she told him, with a pouting face to myself.

Phoebe made some ill-natured remark about red suiting the little princess, if it was vulgarity that was in style, and flounced off to Mick, without Mr. Brown’s even being aware she had been near him.

“How can you say so, Molly?” he asked, showing me a surprised quizzical smile.

I opened my lips to reply, but was looking at the back of his head. “Isn’t there somewhere we can go to be alone?” I overheard him say. I had to lean forward to catch the low words.

I was on my feet. “April is not leaving,” I told him sternly.

His lips clenched into a frustrated, thin line. “It seems I must deal with
you
first, Molly. Excuse us, April. I shall be right back. Don’t go away.”

He arose, took me by the elbow to march a few yards beyond Perdita’s hearing, then stopped. “Save your breath, Mr. Brown. April is not leaving this room,” I told him.

“I do not mean to quibble about terms. I am generous, and I am in a hurry. I want to get her out of here before you reach London.”

“Forget it. Just go away; leave her alone.”

“You won’t make a better deal elsewhere.”

“I am not trying to negotiate a
deal.”

“Is she already taken? I cannot believe you would be traveling with this band of gypsies if it were the case. Tell me what arrangement is in the offing, and I shall undo it.”

“You misunderstand the situation entirely.”

“No, ma’am, I don’t. I am not quite a greenhorn in affairs of this sort. You have got yourself a diamond of the first water. Naturally, you want top pound for her. I am willing to come down heavy. Just state your finder’s fee, and I shall do the rest, arrange a generous settlement on the girl. Say, a thousand a year during pleasure, and half that sum upon disagreement, or until she is placed elsewhere. But with a time limit of one year. I don’t want to be tied up with a pension."

This offhand speech, placing Perdita in the light of a piece of merchandise for hire, and myself as a flesh-broker nearly robbed me of rational speech. “I wish you will talk sense!” was all I could think of to say in refutation.

"Well make a counter offer,” was his astonished reply. Perhaps the offer
was
generous, as these matters go.
"Naturally
I mean to carry all the costs of her establishment, and so on. She will be safe, and well cared for with me. I can supply character references, if you fear I mean to abuse the girl.”

“I cannot think character references for a Mr. Brown would be at all enlightening,” I answered in a voice of heavy irony.

His eyes narrowed in quick suspicion. He was silent a moment, probably considering whether it were safe to tell me his real name. He looked back towards Perdita, who smiled and waved her fingers at him. Such an expression came over his face, a foolish, fatuous, lecherous, eager smile. He turned slowly back to me.

“Any contract you have with the girl would not be valid, Molly. She is obviously a minor. I don’t know what she may mean to you . . ."

“A great deal.”

"Relative? Niece, sister—what? Are you her legal guardian?”

"Yes," I said at once, to bolster my claim. “She is my responsibility, and she is not ripe for the sort of life you are interested in procuring for her.”

"She won’t make a ripple on the stage, if that is what you have in mind. She has beauty, but no voice, and no histrionic ability.”

“That need not concern you.”

“It doesn’t. Your being with this traveling whorehouse tells me very clearly what you both are. Now, cut line and let us arrange the business, or I shall bypass you in the negotiations entirely. It does not do to be too greedy, and as to your alleged guardianship, you are quite obviously unfit for it. I cannot think your character would stand up in court.”

I was at
point non plus.
I could not dare to tell him the truth, reveal our real names, and nothing else would convince him we were anything but what we seemed. I saw, from the corner of my eye, Angie saunter in the door, pinning up her hair and straightening her gown. Our carriage was free now. We could leave, but first I had to get rid of Mr. Brown, so he did not see where we went. Looking around the hall, I caught O’Reilly’s eye. He came forward at an imploring look from me.

“What can I do for you, Molly my lass?” he asked in a hearty, cheerful voice, but he was measuring Mr. Brown’s shoulders as he spoke, ready to treat him as roughly as was called for.

“Mr Brown is being a nuisance, O’Reilly,” I said. “He would like to leave, but cannot find the door.”

“Come along, lad. If the lady says no, she means no. Molly don’t mince words. She speaks right on.” He clamped one of his hairy hamhocks on Brown’s elegant shoulder, and lifted him bodily from the floor. You never saw such an astonished face in your life as Mr. Brown wore. I could not suppress a smile, and didn’t try very hard, either.

O’Reilly dropped his opponent so hard the floor shook. While Brown was still on his way to the ground, he turned around and let a quick jab flash into O’Reilly’s stomach. A pained howl and a curse were emitted simultaneously. The quick jab was followed by a blow to O’Reilly’s jaw. I stood by horrified as Daugherty came darting forward to join the fray. Within seconds, the rest of the party had formed a ring around the fighters, like boys watching a dogfight. I did not wait to see more, but pulled Perdita out of the ring and towards the door. The sounds behind us indicated a free-for-all was fast developing. We went to the carriage, got in, and sat shivering on the banquettes.

“I hope he doesn’t know we’re here,” I said. "If he comes looking for you, Perdita, I mean to knock him out. In fact, I am going to get a weapon this instant.” I checked the door of the hall to see no one was coming out, before jumping out of the carriage to look around in the darkness. I found a stout tree-branch and a large rock. There we sat in the carriage, holding our makeshift weapons, while Perdita giggled and crowed over her conquest.

"He came twenty-five miles to see me.”

"It is nothing to boast of. The man is a hardened rake. His sort ought to be behind bars, and not walking loose to pester innocent women. If I were not afraid of the publicity, I would lodge a complaint against him.”

"I think he’s handsome.”

"He's a regular Don Juan.”

"Oh but I always wanted to tame a rake. If he knew who I really am, he would be interesed in more than a mistress-ship. He would marry me.”

"Would he not make a fine, upstanding husband? You would not be subjected to much of his company, at any rate. He’d be out burning up the countryside, squandering his fortune on a new lightskirt every season.

"How much did he offer?”

"I shan’t insult you by saying.”

“A gent once offered Phoebe two hundred a year, plus paying for all her expenses.”

The vulgar “gent” annoyed me as much as the rest of her speech. “Generous!” I said sardonically. It would not do to flatter her with the sum after this revelation. She might take into her head to accept the offer. Anything seemed possible in this demimonde we had fallen into.

We sat for a long time, watching, waiting, talking, with me trying to get some propriety into her head, and herself oblivious to anything but the glory of having had a degrading offer from a rake.

It was our new custom to sleep in our petticoats, but I could not like to be so scantily-clad in case we were hauled from the flimsy safety of our carriage. We kept our gowns on our backs till Mr. Brown came out. I had hoped to see him flung from the door headfirst, as he deserved, but Daugherty was keen to keep any altercation to a minimum, because of the law. When Brown came out, Mick accompanied him. They had reached the best of terms. Mick had his arm flung around the man’s shoulder, their heads together, talking.

"He's trying to press Phoebe on him,” Perdita said, in a voice of pique.

“An ideal match. I wish him luck.”

I began to think the girl was right. The two men went into the blue carriage, Phoebe’s red satin place of business. Mick would take a discreet departure, and Phoebe would slip in. This was not quite what happened. The men entered the carriage, stayed for about a quarter of an hour, during which Phoebe did not join them. Then Brown came out and walked away, whistling merrily, while Daugherty stood at the carriage door, looking after him, and patting his pocket in a satisfied way that suggested he had got money out of the scoundrel.

When Brown was safely away, I went out to speak to Daugherty. “What happened? How did you get rid of him?”

“Never underestimate the power of persuasion, Molly my girl. I talked him out of it.”

“Yes, but how?”

He put his head back and laughed. “I told him April will be a mother in half a year, and he was amazingly eager to forget her. His sort don’t want a by-blow around their necks. Why, ‘twould be enough to give a lad a bad name.”

One becomes accustomed to even violent shocks after a while. I had learned so many strange, debauched things during the past days that my only reaction was amusement, even admiration at his quick thinking. “You are up to all the rigs, Mick. Now why didn’t
I
think of that?”

“Because you are not up to snuff, Mol. Why, I begin to think you need a keeper yourself.”

“I still don’t see how you got money out of him for telling him. Never mind trying to con me, Mick. I saw you patting your pocket. How much did you get? Enough to hire a room at the inn?”

“Devil a bit of it. He gave me a guinea for recommending a female to him, one of my ex-girls who has set up trade in London.”

“I hope he goes directly to her, and never darkens the door of our theater again.”

"That's exactly what he plans. Don’t worry your pretty head he’ll be pestering April.”

As he spoke, his arm went around my shoulders, his hand falling rather low on my chest. “Well, the night’s young, and the brat is tucked up safe in her bed. What do you say you and I . . ." He looked over his shoulder at the blue carriage, then back to me, with a wary half smile.