Chapter 3
After their brief encounter, Caroline knew that things had gotten progressively worse for Annette. She had been sent to the workhouse after being sick for a prolonged period of time and unable to work. Caroline heard of Annette’s plight through her friend Stella and had worked hard to have her debts paid, and sh
e secured a room for her and Dickie.
Both Annette and Dickie were suffering from malnutrition and her father graciously offered to treat them, even though he was not entirely convinced that his daughter’s energies were focused in the right place. She was grateful to her father and hoped that in time Annette and her son would be the first to benefit from her project, whatever that would be.
After the time spent in the workhouse, Annette returned to the streets meaner and not desirous of helping Caroline in what she deemed “milady’s project.” She wasn’t grateful for Caroline’s financial help and scoffed at her plans to change the slums in some way.
Caroline arranged to meet Annette at the local pub near where she was staying and she could tell Annette was much changed. She was surly and didn’t say much at first. Annette took Caroline’s money but seemed angry at herself for taking it. When the barmaid came by, she ordered an ale with Caroline’s money while Caroline shook her head and didn’t order anything.
“Annette.” She said softly.
“I’m not some animal to be saved, my lady,” she had taken to calling Caroline that even though she was not titled. “I’m not some rabid dog or cat to be placed into a home, given a bath and put a collar around my neck. This is my lot. I’ve accepted it.”
“We’ve talked about what can be done. I promised you I would help. I have so many ideas,” Caroline said her eyes lighting up. “So many ideas. Please listen to me.”
Annette pulled the frothy foam to her lips and drank the ale. “Oh yes? And what’s this new idea of yours?”
“Housing. Everyone needs good, safe housing. Free of mold, rats. I plan to ask my father to help me purchase a building, renovate it and place people who need it into the rooms.”
“Purchase a building?” Annette asked sarcastically.
“Yes! It can be an older building that needs work. Maybe some of the women who will be tenants can help with the—“
“You have no idea, do you?” Annette said finishing the last of her ale. “Life is so grand for you, ain’t it? You snap your fingers and your daddy buys you a building. You push your little chess pieces across the board, place them into their little squares and look at that, you’re done. You feel better about yourself; everyone congratulates you. Then you can marry and settle in the country knowing you did a good thing once,” Annette spouted off.
Caroline felt a knot in her throat. “Why are you saying these things to me? I care what happens to you. I care about Dickie. I do. I want to help you. I’m sorry things have been rough for you lately. But that’s going to change. I’m going to place you on the list. You’ll have a place in the new housing…“
Annette wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She stood up and looked down at Caroline still seated. “No dearie. This place? East End? This is my place. And let me tell you there ain’t no place for you here. You play with your little building and you dress it up nice. But here? You don’t belong here just as I don’t belong there. It’s best you return to Mayfair. The air is better there anyway.”
She staggered out and Caroline willed herself not to cry. She had spent weeks trying to make a breakthrough to help Annette, but it seemed the time spent in the workhouse had damaged her.
She looked about the empty public house and sighed. She felt beaten as she pulled the cloak about her shoulders. She would hail a hansom cab and return home. She felt defeated and depressed. Maybe Annette was right. She was just playing house. Maybe the housing plan was a mistake. Maybe it would never work. Maybe this was all a silly dream and nothing could be done to help the slums of London.
???
Irene watched with glee as the singer paraded across the stage and then curtseyed in front of the audience after she was done. She was scantily dressed and Irene looked about the audience struggling to see if there was anyone she knew.
The theater he had brought her to was out of the way and when she smiled into his face, he squeezed her knee playfully. She returned her gaze to the stage and felt his hand on the small of her back. She should not have come here but it was exciting. It was daring and she loved to be daring.
Her grandmother and sister thought she was at her dearest friend Nell’s house playing cards and socializing, she was not. Her family was very dear to her but Caroline was too proper and her grandmother far too strict. She liked being in the world and living in it. She was young and alive. She was living for the moment.
When she had captured the eye of her admirer, she had been thrilled. She had never thought to attract his attention. But now, as they sat close together in the darkened music hall auditorium, her heart raced. His hand was on her thigh, on her lower back, and his eyes were on her. She smiled widely, and when after the show he had suggested they drop by a quiet little café he knew, she agreed.
At the café, he ordered them both absinthe, and when the small glasses filled with the peridot-green alcohol arrived, she eagerly took hers in hand.
“Cheers!” She gushed, excitedly drinking the contents of the glass.
He smiled and watched as she drank the entire glass, but he did not drink a sip and placed his full glass back on the table.
“You don’t like it?” She giggled.
“I do. But I prefer to watch and see how it affects you,” he told her.
“Affects me?” She smiled.
“Yes. It affects people differently. For some it alters the mood, for others they may see things. How do you feel?”