The Spoils of Sin (8 page)

Fanny had shrugged. ‘I know that,' she said lightly.

‘It is a hard thing to truly know and accept,' Carola persisted. ‘There might be men who think they can carry us away from our degrading ways and redeem us by marriage. They will mean well, and never see the obstacles.'

Again Fanny brushed the caution aside. Deep down she thought such a rescue sounded romantic and not altogether impossible. But she nodded an easy agreement.

Now she said, ‘Charlie presents no danger, believe me. He will soon be ready to ride off in search of a wife. I believe I have given him the necessary courage.'

‘In that case, I congratulate you,' said Carola. ‘But I ask myself how comes it that he remains here in Chemeketa when all his comrades have rushed off to find gold.'

‘He lacks the necessary motivation,' Fanny explained. ‘His courage lies in other directions. And perhaps he understands that no amount of gold can ensure him the contentment he craves.'

‘Any wife would look on him with increased favour if he offered her the security of money in the bank.'

‘Perhaps he will go one day, then.'

Fanny did indeed feel she deserved a degree of praise for her service to Charlie. At the same time, she resented the implication that she might be over-fond of him. Never for a second had she envisaged herself in the role of his wife. If that possibility ever did arise, it would be with a man of such towering force, such passionate adoration, such over-riding abilities to face down society, that she would be like a silk scarf in his hand. He could crush her down to the smallest bundle and carry her away in his belt, to be restored to a full and pure beauty once shaken out and displayed to the world.

On a mild day at the end of February, an unusual figure stepped through their door one noontime. The girls were at the stove, shovelling out the ash and brushing clean the floor all around it. There were cigar butts and lucifer ends scattered about, as well as occasional spots from ill-aimed wads of chewed tobacco. Hugo lolled in a corner on an old piece of bearskin. He gave a surprised
woof
when he detected the visitor.

‘Might I come in?' she asked.

The girls looked up to see a woman of their mothers' age or more, dressed in fur and feathers, her jet black hair stiff with paste designed to give it extra height and volume. She stood tall and rigid, as if laced into stays that were far too tight for comfort.

‘Of course,' said Carola. ‘We are at your service.'

Fanny shot her a glance, which asked a silent question:
How can we service such a person as this?

‘My name is Marybelle. I have lately come from California, on the advice of a gentleman friend. He told me of all the delights of Oregon Territory, so I came to see for myself.' It was obviously a rehearsed little speech, delivered with a girlish smile that fitted badly with the person making it.

‘We would offer you coffee, but the stove is out. We can have it ready in a half-hour or so.'

‘No need. Might I sit down?' The woman eyed the velvet couches and their fine silk and satin cushions. ‘You have some excellent furnishings, I see.'

‘We try to make it comfortable.' Carola was still taking the lead, while Fanny stood watchful and uneasy. She could see no good in this visitor, nothing being offered that could bring them benefit. She winced as the woman sank deeply into a soft seat and wriggled her shoulders like a cat settling itself down for the day.

‘I am not mistaken, I hope, in the nature of your business? Your use of the word
boudoir
on your sign is a trifle puzzling. I am accustomed to
parlour
as the usual title.'

‘There has been very little confusion as to our meaning. We opened in the summer of last year and have received no complaints. In a town as small as this, our part is very plain to see.'

‘Your part? You play a part in the life of the town?' The woman shook her head. ‘I am at a loss to understand you.'

Fanny stepped forward. ‘What do you want from us?' she demanded. ‘Why are you here?'

Marybelle met her eyes. ‘I am simply interested. You have perhaps understood that I myself am in this same line of work, and there is always a curiosity as to how others manage. There are precious few models for you to follow, out here in such a new land. I can see already that you have made choices of your own, with no opportunity for imitation. I dare say there is not another
boudoir
for a hundred miles or more. I admire your courage in ploughing such a new furrow.'

‘And is it your judgement that we have chosen well?' asked Fanny.

‘To the extent that you both look healthy and moderately contented, I should say you have avoided many mistakes, so far. The dog is a surprise. What purpose does it play, may I ask?'

‘He protects us,' said Fanny.

‘Indeed?' Marybelle gave Hugo a speculative look. ‘That strikes me as inordinately clever of you. So much less trouble than keeping a man about the place.'

‘Healthy and contented,' Carola repeated. ‘Would you have expected us to be sick and miserable, then?'

‘Perhaps not so soon. I have been in the business for five and twenty years, and I count myself most fortunate to have survived so long. Do you ever give a thought to the future, my dears?'

‘We most certainly do!' Fanny spoke with force. ‘We intend to save our earnings until we can acquire property and retire to a life of ease.'

Carola threw her a warning look. She was always nervous when anybody spoke of money. But she quickly relaxed and joined in. ‘We are considering the wisdom of moving down to the goldfields and perhaps improving ourselves in consequence.'

Marybelle grimaced. ‘That, I believe, could be a mistake.'

Fanny's chin jutted forward. ‘Why so?'

The visitor sighed and leaned back even further into the cushions. ‘It is too late for me to try to give you a warning. Too late to persuade you that it is a dangerous path you are treading. And I am no wise woman, in any case, to point out the dangers or give you advice. Let me, if I may, merely ask you what your purpose was, at the outset? What did you think you were doing – and why would you do it?'

Carola and Fanny looked blankly at each other, as if the question had no imaginable answer. Had they, they wondered, ever debated a reason in plain terms? Perhaps they had, but if so, it was already quite forgotten.

‘There is a need,' said Fanny tentatively. ‘So many men without a wife, their natural appetites thwarted.' She dimly recalled how much she and Abel Tennant had enjoyed each other on the Trail, on hot summer days beside one river or another. How innocent and pleasurable it had been – until her sister Charity discovered them and poured her horror and disapproval over them. It had never been quite the same after that. Abel had sowed the idea, speaking of her inborn talent and how she would appeal to the countless single men roaming across the territory. ‘There are few such remunerative opportunities for a young woman out here.'

‘Or anywhere else,' muttered Carola. ‘I was shown the possibilities, back in Charleston, by a relative. I have never felt inclined to marriage, and all that comes along with it.'

‘Children,' nodded Marybelle. ‘Security. A solid place in society. You discard all that for this?'

‘Drudgery. Obedience. An early grave,' added Fanny. ‘My father's wife died at twenty, having given birth twice.'

‘Your mother?'

Fanny shook her head. ‘He married again, and perhaps she had a better time of it than the first Mrs Collins, although there could be an argument the other way. Three daughters of her own to watch over, as well as the one from the first wife, and a long migration from Rhode Island, to end her days on a homestead where she must milk cows and hoe potatoes like a slave. If fortune is with them, my father's business might flourish sufficiently to employ a girl to take a share of the work – but more likely 'twill be a man to plough the ground, and the women's work remain with my mother and sisters.'

‘Good healthy work, in the fresh air, with nothing to bring you worries except for the rain wetting the weekly wash,' said Marybelle.

Fanny shrugged. ‘It has no appeal for me,' she said.

‘Or me,' endorsed Carola. ‘My mother sits all day on a chaise longue with a foul-smelling dog on her lap, giving orders to slaves who hate her.'

Marybelle laughed. ‘And how is that different from the “retirement” you anticipate, once your fortunes are made?'

‘I shall travel,' Carola asserted. ‘I wish to see the Indies, the Spice Islands, the southern seas.' She flicked out the skirts of her silk frock. ‘I shall wear the finest costumes, and eat the finest food. And when I grow old, I shall live on a hilltop in Old Europe, as my great-grandmother did, and think back on my colourful life.'

‘A lonely fate,' murmured Marybelle. ‘And an unlikely one. Whoever heard of an American born and bred settling down in Europe? What can you imagine it has to offer you?'

‘I intend to go to see for myself,' said Carola stoutly.

‘You are mere children,' the older woman observed. ‘Making up your romances and your dreams to evade the unpleasantness all around you.'

‘What, then, would you have us do?' asked Fanny, with narrow eyes. Hugo, picking up her tone, pricked up his ears and gave a low growl.

‘Mercy! I meant no offence. I
admire
you, I do truly. But be that as it may, I cannot help worrying on your behalf.'

‘There is no need,' said Fanny.

‘I see that there is
less
need than I expected.' Marybelle shifted in her seat, clasping her hands together tightly. ‘It is so very hard to find the words. I allow that life here is quite different from that in California. From the little I have seen, it has every appearance of a paradise by comparison. I see scarcely an Indian, and not a single firearm. I counted no fewer than five goodwives, between the town hall and here. The talk on the bark was all of families and orchards and peaceful settlement. Oregon is growing famous for its serenity,' she summarised. ‘A respite from the insanity that has gripped humanity not so far away from here.'

‘Bark?' echoes Carola. ‘You came here by sea?'

‘Along the coast from San Francisco to Astoria and thence a river steamer. It is a lovely trip. If you have ambitions to travel, I suggest you begin with your own doorstep.'

‘You diverted from your main point,' Fanny reminded her. ‘You
allow
that we live in a paradise, and yet…?'

‘And yet you immerse yourself in the one practice that polite society universally condemns. You wilfully permit yourself to be spoiled and tainted beyond recall.'

‘Beyond redemption,' murmured Fanny, remembering her Catholic upbringing.

‘You did the same thing yourself,' Carola pointed out. ‘Are you telling us that you regret it now?'

‘Not so simple a message as that,' sighed Marybelle. ‘Besides, as we established already, it is too late for such feelings. The damage is done.' She looked from face to face. ‘But perhaps not,' she mused.

‘We are not fools,' snapped Carola. ‘We are protecting ourselves from disease. The men we service are clean and healthy. Those who are not, we send away.'

‘I regret a number of the consequences,' Marybelle returned to the question. ‘Many of them only apparent to me in recent months, when I at last succeeded in wrenching myself away from that life. It came as a great shock to me to find how very difficult that was.'

‘So it was a good life. You missed it?' The older girl leaned forward challengingly. Fanny remained quiet, still hearing the word
redemption
ringing in her ears.

‘That is the puzzle. How could I say it was a good life? My body was used, night after night, with no – or very little – affection or concern. My own sensations never held any significance for those men, other than the few who enjoyed inflicting pain. And yet, it is a trivial thing in itself. An easy thing. An animal instinct like an urge to scratch an itch, quickly satisfied. If they willingly part with their dollars to gain that satisfaction, then someone must take advantage of that willingness. They poured gold down my bodice and filled my boots with it. I worked six hours each day, at most, and have profited immensely, since they first found the gold, barely half a year since. I was already on the spot, you see. Many would opine that I was the most fortunate of women, thanks to that accident of location.'

‘And yet?' interrupted Fanny impatiently. ‘Where is the disadvantage? What more are you trying to say?'

‘What indeed? Perhaps it is all clear and simple, after all. I broke the habit of many years, and it was hard. Walking in here, and catching the perfumes of your business, the soft silks and satins, reminds me powerfully of what I have given up. Now if I catch the eye of passing men, it is to no avail. I cling to these foolish garments from old habit, knowing I must discard them and clothe myself in the drabs of an ageing woman. Many would say I have just made the greatest mistake in a life that has been misdirected from the first.'

‘You are handsome yet,' said Carola. ‘Why give up so soon?'

‘Why indeed? Just as the world is gripped by gold fever and there are fortunes being made at this very moment.'

‘Which you have seen for yourself,' said Carola eagerly.

‘I have seen it, in all its fantastical madness.' The woman fumbled in a velvet reticule and brought forth a shining yellow nugget. ‘I keep this to remind me. It was the first time I was paid in crude ore. Feel it for yourself.' She handed it to the girl. Carola hefted it in the palm of her hand, then stroked it with a fingertip. ‘Is it not beautiful,' Marybelle sighed. ‘Of all the bounties and wonders of this world, gold is the greatest. It comes pure and shining from the ground, and lends itself to being worked as mankind wishes. I have sat close to a group of prospectors, as they converse around their fires at night, and listened to their tales of discovery. They are drunk on the magic of it, as well as on the spirits they buy with it. They are like little children on Christmas morning.' She sighed again. ‘But they will quickly turn into red-eyed monsters, frantic with greed. They will fight amongst themselves, and turn brutal. The gold will one day all be gone, and they will be left staring about in bewilderment. I did not wish to witness that day – which might come sooner than anybody thinks. I have amassed my own little fortune, and now I leave the younger ones to exploit the prospectors.'