The Darling Strumpet. Gillian Bagwell

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      MADAM ROSS PURSED HER ROUGED LIPS. NELL FIDGETED UNDER THE examination and threw an anxious glance to Rose. The madam’s red hair, unblinking gaze, and the quick tilt of her head made Nell think of a russet hen. She supposed Madam Ross must be as old as her mother, maybe even older. But she was a very handsome woman, and elegant in the dark green gown which showed off her buxom figure.

      “Hmph,” Madam Ross mused. “Good eyes, good skin. Hair not a bad colour, but monstrous wild.” Nell reached a hand up to try to smooth her curls and suffered Madam Ross to take her by the shoulders and turn her about.

      “The beginnings of a nice little bosom,” Madam Ross commented. “And I make no doubt you’ll fill out more, like your sister. Yes, not bad at all. Lift your skirts.” Nell hesitantly pulled her skirt and shift to her knees.

      “Higher, girl,” said Madam Ross, twitching Nell’s skirts to waist height. “Hmph. Very lovely little legs you have. And bit of feathering to the cuckoo’s nest, I see. Do you have your courses yet?”

      “Aye,” Nell stammered. “Just.”

      “Well, Rose can teach you what to do to keep yourself from getting with child.” She stepped back and regarded Nell for another moment, then nodded.

      “Aye. You’ll do well. Some of them like the look of a game pullet who’s still but a child. We can sell you as a virgin for this day or two. And even without that, you’re a pretty impish little thing.” She smiled at Nell and then turned to Rose.

      “She can lie in the room next to yours. Get her things today. We’re like to continue busy and we can use all hands.”

      “Thank you, ma’am,” Rose said, and Nell echoed her, “Aye, thank you very kindly, ma’am.”

      Madam Ross nodded her acknowledgement. “Rose, make sure she has a bath. And help her to do something about that hair.”

      She sailed out the door in a rustle of skirts, and Nell and Rose were left alone in Rose’s tiny room. Nell studied Rose, wishing as she frequently did that her own hair would fall in the smooth chestnut waves her sister had. Rose’s blue eyes were intent on her with an expression Nell couldn’t read, the colour standing out on her high cheekbones.

      “Are you sure you want to do this?” Rose asked. “’Tis not … all ease. You could go back home.”

      “No.” Nell shook her head. “I’ll never go back. Besides, you know Mam would have me working the same way afore long. I must earn my keep in some way. I had rather be with you.”

      “Very well.” Rose gave Nell a squeeze and a smile. “At least I can keep an eye on you here.”

      THAT AFTERNOON, NELL AND ROSE WENT TO FETCH NELL’S FEW belongings from the Golden Fleece. Their mother, Eleanor, was behind the bar and scowled as they entered.

      “I was wondering when you’d come creeping back. High time, too. There’s work to be done.” She turned back to the keg she had been tapping.

      Nell’s heart pounded with fear, but knowing that Rose stood beside her, she found the courage to answer.

      “I’m not coming back.”

      Eleanor whirled to face her.

      “What prating nonsense is that? Where else would you go?”

      “With me,” Rose spoke up.

      Eleanor shot from behind the bar with such violence that she sent a stool clattering to the floor, drawing the attention of the few tipplers who sat in a gloomy corner.

      “With you? You talk hog-high. Are you so grand now that you’ve money to spare on the lazy little wretch?”

      Rage overcame Nell’s fear.

      “Lazy? You’ve worked me day and night since I could scarce walk. I don’t need you. I can get my own living!”

      Eleanor’s face flushed and she lunged for Nell, but Rose stepped between them.

      “We’ve come to get Nell’s things,” Rose said, toe to toe with their mother. “Madam Ross has taken her on. Stand aside.”

      Eleanor stood her ground for a moment, eyes blazing. But Rose did not back down, and all the patrons of the tavern were watching now. With a snort of disgust, Eleanor moved away, and Nell followed Rose behind the bar to the stairs.

      In the mousehole of a room she had shared with her mother for as long as she could recall, Nell gathered the few items of clothes she was not already wearing—her spare shift, a pair of woollen stockings, a ragged cloak and cap for winter. Her only other possessions were the precious shard of mirror wrapped in a bit of sacking, and a small doll, its body of stuffed cloth and its face a painted walnut. Nell had had the doll all her life, and Eleanor had told Nell that her father had made it for her. It was the only relic she had of his existence, the only evidence that he had once lived, and had loved her.

      Eleanor looked up as Nell and Rose descended the stairs.

      “You’re an ungrateful little fool. And that Ross woman is an even greater fool if she thinks any man will pay to bed the likes of you.” The words hit Nell like a slap across the face, but Rose put a steadying hand on her shoulder and guided her past their mother.

      “Goodbye, Mam,” Rose said.

      ROSE OPENED THE DOOR INTO WHAT WOULD BE NELL’S HOME AND place of work. The room was tiny, scarce big enough for a bed, a chair, and a stand that held a basin and bowl for washing and a towel. There were three hooks on one wall, for hanging clothes, and a battered wooden box in which Nell could keep her belongings. Roughcast walls rose to the dingy ceiling. Wide oak planks formed the СКАЧАТЬ