A Gentleman Arrives
Magdalena came to my room in the early evening the next day, a large box wrapped in vivid green tissue paper cradled in her arms.
“You’ve received a present, darling,” she said, grinning as I pulled her inside.
“Who’s it from? Auguste? Amon?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” she said, laughing a little in a way that made me sure she did know. “There’s a card.”
We sat together on the bed, the box between us, and I found the small cream envelope tucked into a fold of the paper and plucked it out, tearing at the seal.
For your first evening as a manor lady. I’ll see you soon.
Jonathon Underwood
“Jonathon! I’d never heard his proper name before.” I touched the thick edges of the card. It wasn’t really a love note, not much of one. But I’d never been sent any kind of note from a bloke I’d tumbled, and it made my chest squeeze to see his handwriting curl across the white.
“Well… open the box,” Magdalena urged, her fingers already slipping into the corners.
I pulled it away from her before she could spoil the surprise for me, tearing off the paper and finding a glossy cream box inside. I lifted up the lid and my breath stopped.
Inside was a dress. The color was the richest shade of rouge, like the pigment shining in my former mistress’ maquillage pot. I drew my hands back before I mussed the fabric.
Magdalena went ahead and lifted the dress up out of the box, and I folded my lips between my teeth at the sight of it. It wasn’t really a decent kind of dress, but I supposed it didn’t need to be in a house like this. I could see the light run right through the airy fabric.
“I hope he has a good eye for size, we haven’t got time to call in my seamstress to fit you and it’s all a bit gauzy for me to work with,” she said. She leaned over my shoulder and I watched the way the fabric seemed to drip like liquid over her arm. “No undergarments? Of course not. Men. I suppose Auguste will hardly mind. Probably came up with the idea together.”
“They know each other?” I asked, looking up from the terrifyingly beautiful dress.
“Auguste introduced Dr. Underwood to me. I believe Mr. Tanner introduced Auguste to Dr. Underwood,” Magdalena said, holding up the dress again. The color seemed to glow in the room. “I take a great deal of care in putting my girls together with men. It’s important to make sure the personalities work. But I had a good feeling about you when Jonathon sent the letter.”
She sat down on the bed next to me again, lowering the gown back into the box with great care. “Some girls want…structure. Firm hands. But for that to work, the men can’t be jockeying for position with each other. Others want the control and need steadying personalities to ease them. Other girls require sweetness, lots of spoiling, and courting. And some girls,” she said, taking my face in her hands and looking straight into my eyes with that huge gaze of hers. “Some girls will offer whatever is asked of them and gladly take whatever is offered. So you have to make sure their gentlemen are every bit as good-hearted as them. And have decent variety amongst them.” She released me with a wink.
I looked down at my tangling hands, uncertain of what to say. Those words seemed too kind. I was a greedy, wicked creature. Deliciously wanton, according to Dr. Underwood. And Magdalena had painted me as something sweeter, when all I could think about while I was here was what sort of fellow I might meet and how he might make me feel between the sheets.
“Let’s try this on, shall we?” Magdalena said. “Sun is almost set, and Auguste won’t be long after that.”
“That? I can’t wear that!” I said, rearing back from the dress.
“Why ever not?” she asked, brow furrowing in sincere offense.
“I’ll ruin it! I’ll…I’ll tear it or stain it or something awful.”
Magdalena’s head fell back, and a laugh that was not nearly as elegant as I’d expected poured right out of her. “If you think…this house…hasn’t had its share of ruined gowns…” she said between bouts of cackles. “Oh goodness, Esther. What a funny thing to say! If anyone ruins this gown, it will be Auguste, and he’s more than capable of finding you a new one. Now, up with you. I might be able to adjust the fit in small ways if it’s needed.”
I stood and started to strip as Magdalena followed me up, her fingers at nearly invisible buttons on the back of the dress. Now that she’d mentioned Auguste seeing me in this, I was—well, not less afraid, but certainly more curious. And speaking of curious…
“Madame…Booker. Is he…. What is he?” I asked.
“He’s a golem, darling,” she said, as if it were perfectly obvious. Although I didn’t really know what a golem was. “One of my own creations. The usual sort is made of clay, but I thought marble might look more fitting with the manor.”
“So you’re like…his mother?” I asked, stepping out of my dress.
Magdalena snorted. “Oh dear, can you imagine? No, I…I made him, but he’s very much his own creature. I could unmake him, I suppose. But I certainly wouldn’t, not unless he were cruel or destructive. But I’ve never made a bad golem.” She sounded very proud. And seeing as how she had made a man out of marble of all things, I supposed she had a right to be proud.
“Do they…do your golems ever, um…” I chewed at my lip and raised my eyebrows, hoping she might guess for me. But she stared blankly back. “Do they ever spend time with the girls who live here?”
Magdalena grinned. “Oh, that. I suppose they do. Who my ladies sleep with is between them and their gentlemen. And what my golems do in their free time is entirely up to them.”
I swallowed and glanced at the door. So Booker was…free.
“As for Booker,” Magdalena continued, as if reading my mind. Maybe she was. She could make men. “He requested to be assigned to your service first and foremost.”
“He said that?” I asked, whipping my head to her just before she dropped the miles of brilliant, cool, silk over my head. It ran over my skin like wine and left me shivering my way through the sleeve straps.
“Well, no,” Magdalena said. “I asked him what part of the house he wanted to work in, and he said ‘Esther.’ But my answer was more elegant. Golems are not very effusive.”
I tried to hide my smile by looking down to smooth the skirt of my dress.
“There. Well done, Doctor,” Magdalena said, fixing the last button at the back of the dress. “Perfect fit.”
* * *