In the Grotto
As much as I liked the dress Booker had picked out for me, it didn't seem the sort of thing to wear while meeting one of Rooksgrave's gentlemen. I considered the red dress from Dr. Underwood, and even—very briefly—the beaded one from Amon, but they reminded me of my men, and it seemed wrong somehow to wear them for someone else.
There was a dress from the Rooksgrave seamstress I hadn't worn yet, thin and black with slits up either leg and next to nothing on my shoulders. I had a black demi-corset to go with the dress, as well as some elaborate stockings, but Booker's voice calling me 'soft' echoed in my head, and I decided to forgo either. I looked dramatic enough with my dark hair and red-stained lips, and extra garments would only get in the way in the water.
Booker was difficult to read if he wasn't offering a smile, but I thought he approved of my outfit. He didn't help himself to my pussy again, but he did cup my hip a little possessively as he escorted me down later that afternoon.
We passed a room I hadn't seen yet, a dark library with a piano and harp inside, and Mary was there, lifting her head from her lounge on a couch.
"Not again?" she asked me. "Mortimer's overworking you."
"I don't think so," I answered with a shrug.
She only rolled her eyes and collapsed back with a huff.
I turned to Booker, leaning into his side a little more as we headed for a dark stairwell that led down. "Do you know what the other girls do during the day?"
Booker didn't answer at first, but I was used to his slower pace of speech by now. Magdalena didn't seem to ask him questions so much as give him orders, and he always took his time with his answers when I asked.
"Practice accomplishments," he said, just one crease of concentration on his brow. "Polish," he added, brushing a finger over my cheekbone. "Sleep."
"I'm not very good at being idle," I admitted. "I never really liked to work, but at least it kept me busy, and I don't have any accomplishments. Now that I'm not a maid…" I got bored. Bored and lonely.
The stairwell was growing cooler the deeper we traveled. Oil lamps turned into candles held in stone fists reaching out from the wall. Our own shadows were swooping over the walls like dark wings, spinning as we turned and turned down the steps until I was almost dizzy.
The grotto, as Magdalena had called it, wasn't just in the basement like the kitchen or the staff quarters of a proper house, it was buried deep in the earth. My arm was clinging to Booker when we finally reached the deepest, darkest part of the stairs, a faint bubble of water sounding in the black.
"And the gentleman is already here?" I whispered, trying to see any form ahead of me as Booker walked smoothly forward.
"The water," Booker said.
Cool, damp stone brushed against my shoulder, Booker's voice echoing eerily. We were in a corridor, I realized. There was a faint glow ahead, not the orange of the candles behind us, but a shimmering blue like moonlight.
The grotto was a stone cavern as vast and complicated as Rooksgrave Manor itself. There was a luminescence to the stone cathedral walls and ceiling, just enough for me to see by, to see where the water in front of me was shallow and where it grew deep and black.
"Are you going back upstairs?" I whispered to Booker, a thread of panic twining around my heart, growing tighter as my eyes searched the hollows of the cave. It looked like there was a network down here, not just one room. Wherever the water demon was coming from, it wasn't the same direction I had arrived.
"By the steps," Booker said, jerking his head back over his shoulder.
I released a slow, wavering sigh. That was all right then. I could hear the water by the steps, so Booker would certainly hear me if I—
I stopped the wild trail of my thoughts. Why was I frightened? I had met Auguste. Amon. I'd ventured alone to Harley Street to meet Dr. Underwood, and I hadn't quailed when Mr. Tanner appeared. This was just another gentleman. Just another exotic seduction.
I straightened my spine, squared my shoulders, and lifted my chin, meeting Booker's steady stare. "All right. Thank you, Booker."
Booker studied the water briefly, and then me again, before nodding and finally releasing me, the cool pale tone of his bald head gleaming blue as he retreated into the dark corridor.
I looked back to the water, searching through the glittering, lapping surface for a man. Booker had said he was in the water, but what I'd pictured was some bare-chested fellow, swimming and waiting for me. What did a water demon look like? If I had one critique for Magdalena, it was that a little more preparation wouldn't hurt those of us working for her. It didn't all have to be mystery and suspense, surely?
I took a breath and tiptoed closer to where the stone floor sunk down to the edge of the water, long steps lowering into blue shadow. I wasn't a swimmer by any means, but surely no one was expecting me to meet this water demon down at the bottom?
My toes curled, surprised to find the pool fairly comfortable in temperature. The hem of my dress soaked up the water and then floated aimlessly out around my ankles as I wadded in. I was a little cold, my nipples tight in my thin dress, and there was something about the oppressive quiet that reminded me of that sensation of being watched from the night before.
I wasn't alone. I was being watched this time. I just didn't know from what direction.
"Hello?"
Water licked around my calves, a gentle urge to step in a little deeper. My eyes flicked back and forth, into one shadowy cavern and then another, waiting for any sign of my client. Nerves made my skin prickle and my stomach swoop. My breaths came shorter. But with all of that, I was also aware of the excitement teasing at me. I didn't mind being a little scared.
Ezra passed through my thoughts. Our teasing words of him sneaking up on me and fucking me. I didn't think one of Magdalena's gentlemen would do that, not according to her rules, but I didn't mind imagining it.
"I'm Esther," I called out, feeling a little silly talking to myself.
I stepped down another step, water up to my knees, and resisted the urge to fidget, my chest heaving with nervous breaths.
"Come deeper."