“I doubt your Mrs Gedge would take kindly to that. Wouldn’t she call it stealing?”
Faith took a quick, surprised breath and glanced at Charity. Her best friend at Madame Chambon’s had never before resorted to unkind digs. But perhaps Charity was simply reminding Faith of the very real dangers of taking what Faith honestly believed had been promised; only to have it called stealing. It’s how Faith had found herself deposited at Madame Chambon’s, instead of before a magistrate.
“You will get your macaroon, Charity. And it won’t be stealing. I shall simply be practising what Mrs Gedge has instructed I be taught these past three years.” Faith smiled sweetly. “Deception. Taking what I want without the other party realising they’ve surrendered what they had not intended giving. Inveigling my way into their good offices.” Immediately, she felt overwhelmed by the unknown. “Do you think I’m up to the task, Charity?”
“Lord, Faith, I’m not used to hearing you talk like that, and it’s unnerving.” Charity stepped in front of Faith, her eyes skimming the length of her ensemble, from the demure neckline to the simple and depressingly plain skirt. Faith had expected to be dressed with all the flamboyance exhibited by Charity’s black and scarlet polonaise with its daringly low neckline and whisper of a sleeve. “You always sound like you know exactly how to get what you want.”
“It’s what I pretend. To Madame and the other girls.” Faith squeezed her eyes shut briefly and flicked away a tear. “Well, she might think I’m beholden to her because I have nowhere else to go and because Mrs Gedge pays her to keep me, but I swear to you that there are some things I won’t stoop to, regardless of whether it’s in Mrs Gedge’s grand scheme for me.”
Charity looked at her enquiringly.
It had seemed foolishly naïve to voice this determination in a bawdy house and to a friend who, every night, suffered what Faith was about to declare she’d never do.
“I will never go with a man I do not love. Yes! You might smile, Charity, but I have learning, and I have fine clothes, and I know how to behave like a lady. I’m cleverer than Madame Chambon thinks, and I am not afraid of Mrs Gedge anymore.” Her bosom heaved. Now that she was voicing her most fervently held innermost thoughts, there was no turning back. “No Charity, I swear it! I will not be taken by a man I do not love.”
“Ah Faith, now sit down again and let me repin that errant curl at the back.” Charity’s tone was as light as her hands were on Faith’s shoulders as she resettled Faith upon the stool of her dressing table. “I believe that’s what Anastasia said too, which got the fire up Madame’s backside and all but condemned Anastasia to the very worst next gentleman. You be careful who you say such things to.”
Faith glanced at the keyhole. They’d been foolish words and too loudly declared. What Charity said was true.
“How is Anastasia now?” she asked, biting her lip. “I haven’t seen her for a few days.”
“That’s because she’s not here anymore. Didn’t you know?” Gently, Charity began to massage Faith’s neck. “Once her bruises had faded, Madame said she couldn’t risk Anasta
sia ruining the reputation of a house to which gentlemen came expecting the loving comfort for which Madame Chambon’s is renowned. Now, you look beautiful, Faith. And I’m sure Mrs Gedge will think so too.” She smiled and touched Faith’s cheek, saying with genuine kindness, “And so too will the handsome gentleman Mrs Gedge has lined up for you. Indeed, I believe he’ll be so kind and gallant that you’ll fall instantly in love with him, and he with you, and soon you’ll be galloping into the sunset together to some gilded castle where you’ll enjoy a life of ease and domestic joy for the rest of your days.” She sighed wistfully. “And I will never hear from you again, but I will go peacefully to my grave knowing that at least you found happiness, Faith.”
Chapter 3
“A good thing you know how to balance your appetite for the good things in life without spoiling your pretty figure, Faith.” Mrs Gedge’s American accent seemed more pronounced when she was in fine spirits. She smiled at Faith across the damask-covered dining table, before taking a sip of Rhenish. Her violet ostrich feathers, coloured to match the silk polonaise she wore, reminded Faith of bowing acolytes. Like the other women in the room, she exuded wealth and privilege. Faith felt dowdy in comparison. She’d truly believed Mrs Gedge was going to dress her up to the nines to show off her protégé. “I was a beauty in my day,” Mrs Gedge went on. “I worked hard at it, and I had many marriage offers.”
A stroll through Hyde Park and an exhibition had followed their afternoon tea at the Dorchester, and now they were seated in a restaurant with hand-painted ceilings, attended by obsequious waiters while an orchestra played, partly visible through the sumptuous palm fronds that screened their table.
Mrs Gedge put down her knife and fork and sent a considered look about her. “The power and wealth of the gentlemen in this room could tilt the world’s axis if they only knew how to work together.” Her nostrils flared. “If they only harnessed it for good rather than expended their energies on satisfying their personal desires. I brought you here for a reason, you know. Because someone of interest was going to be dining here. Do you recognise anyone?”
Faith blinked at the abruptness of the question. She also put down her knife and fork and looked carefully at the faces of the dozen or so gentlemen dining with other men or, occasionally, a woman.
“Several,” she said, returning to her food. The sole with chive sauce was delicious and not the kind of fare she generally enjoyed. The expense and effort to which Madame went to ensure the trappings of her sumptuous establishment and the outward appearance of the girls who represented it were only skin deep. Therefore, dining on something other than potatoes and gravy with the occasional piece of gristle made it worth pandering to Mrs Gedge.
“I trust you would not be recognised?” There was steel behind the question, but Faith knew that being kept hidden from the gentlemen who visited Madame Chambon’s girls was an important clause in the contract Mrs Gedge had with the brothel keeper.
“Of course not.” She dabbed delicately at her lips with her napkin and smiled again at her benefactress. “I recognise a great many people here in fact. That gentlemen dining with his mother over there is one of Charity’s most regular clients—”
“How do you know she’s his mother?”
“Because I used to make up the fire in her bedchamber when she was a guest at Wildwood Lodge. She’s a friend of Lady Carmody’s. That red hair is hard to miss.” Faith hesitated. “Do you think she’ll come over and say hello to you?”
Mrs Gedge shuddered. “Lord, I’ve worked too hard to ensure I’ll not be recognised these past few years. Like you. No, I no longer care to recall those days at Wildwood Lodge.” She picked at her food, sad and no longer the hard, determined woman Faith had always known. “Tell me, Faith, do you miss your friends from Wildwood Lodge?” Mrs Gedge’s laboured breathing seemed due to more than just the stress put on her corset by the large quantity of food and wine she’d just consumed. Her mouth trembled. “Do you resent me for taking you away from there? I trust you’ve had no communication with anyone from your old life. If you have, now is the time to tell me.”
“You know my only friends are the girls at Madame Chambon’s.” Faith resented the intrusion and the suspicion in her benefactress’s voice, but she spoke the truth. “You made sure of that,” she added, spearing a Brussels sprout.
“For your own good, Faith. I made you a lady. I think some sacrifices have been worth the position in which you now find yourself.”
Faith offered the requisite smile, tilting her head to regard Mrs Gedge with a level stare and, in the process, intercepted the interested glance of a young man across the room through the fronds of the Kentish palm to her right. He was dining with an older gentleman and a woman. Parents, perhaps, in the way they communicated an expectation of filial obedience as they now rose, gathering gloves and cane.
The young gentleman got to his feet more slowly, his eyes lingering on Faith. Though surprised, and somewhat unnerved, she did not look away as he brushed back the heavy hair that flopped over his brow, all the while keeping his eyes firmly on her. His lips curved slightly as he made some signal to his companions that he was about to follow them.
Faith returned his level stare. Give nothing away. That’s what she’d been taught. Yet show that you have noticed him.
She was brought back to the present by Mrs Gedge’s thoughtful tone. “My, my, I did not expect this.”