Ambergate (14 page)

I did not like to ask her more. “And Rose and Becca?”

“Rose is a dancer. She has a special costume, like the one she used to wear. She came across the sea to marry a sailor here,
but he did not want her. His vows were false. She was ruined before Anora found her.”

“Ruined?”

“Ruined.” She nodded her head solemnly, so that her ringlets bobbed. “It would have befallen Becca and me too, if Anora hadn’t
rescued us. Becca sings very passably, and the gentlemen like her because she is so young.”

“Madam Anora is lucky. What did she do before she found the three of you?”

Connie turned away from me. “There have been other girls. We don’t talk about them.” She moved to the door in the same sleepy
way she did everything. “I must go and see Anora now. We have to discuss the program for tonight. Ask Becca to help you bathe.
There is a hip bath in the basement
and she will light the fire for you. You may have first turn as you are new.”

A bath—how luxurious that sounded. But I could not afford to linger; I must seek out Mistress Bundish before the morning wore
on.

I put my eye to a slit in the shutters. It did not look so very frightening outside. I could see a stretch of cobbled street,
the far gutter shining with water in the daylight. A cat trod delicately between the puddles, its tail held high: a black
cat very like Mister Plush, the ship’s cat.

I should like to meet with Shadow again while I am out
, I thought.
If I do, I will scrag him for tricking me in such a way last night
. Yet what would I have done if I had not found this place? Would I ever have found the right house before nightfall?

I hurried upstairs to fetch my jacket and the box. I had no hat, but perhaps I could borrow one from the cupboard. I found
myself creeping up the staircase, as if I did not want to be heard, as if it were wrong to leave the house.

The hats were too grand, too embellished, for my taste. I shut the cupboard door on them and pulled my jacket over the gray
wool dress. I felt for the parchment in the jacket pocket and pulled it out:
Mistress Elizabeth Bundish, Gull House, Kaye Street
.

Outside the window there was a swan on the mudflats, white against the brown-gray sludge. For a moment I could not move for
emotion. I heard again the gunshot, the swans’ commotion, saw Erland lying half-dead. Then I bent and picked up the box from
beneath my bed.

What was I doing in this house? Its life of luxury and lassitude no longer tempted me. I would leave forever—now.

I tiptoed down again in the same guilty way, and stole along the hall to the front door. The bolts had been pulled back, but
the knob would not turn. I struggled with it for some minutes, my heart beating fast. I had to put the box down and use both
hands.

“Miss! Miss! What are you doing?”

Instinctively, I picked up the box and held it against me. At the far end of the hall, standing in the parlor doorway, was
the drab figure of old Ma Drazel. Her voice was unexpectedly sharp, not genteel like her daughter’s.

“I must seek out my new employers,” I faltered. “I will return shortly.”

“You cannot go without Anora’s permission, and Anora is indisposed.”

“Madam Anora knows all about it,” I said quickly, thinking to make her understand. “We discussed it last night. Please unlock
the door for me.”

“I cannot do that, Miss. Only Anora unlocks the door. It is always kept locked for security, else we’d have every pecknose
and prodstaff in here, pokin’ about.”

I was quite at a loss to know what to do. She and I stood staring at each other. I saw I had underestimated Ma Drazel: her
chin above the gray serge dress was as blunt as her voice, and as determined.

“What is it, Mother?” It was Madam Anora’s voice, coming weakly from the landing above us.

“The new girl, Anora. Accepted your charity, but wants to leave already.”

There was a pause, a sigh, then Anora appeared herself in a long, quilted chamber robe, her hair awry. Connie hovered behind
her.

Anora spoke softly and sweetly, a hand to her forehead; she was very pale. “Oh, Scuff, dear—I had quite forgot. You wished
to find your employer this morning, and I have such a headache I cannot help you today. Will tomorrow not do instead? Then
I will come with you, and we’ll find the right house together. After all, you have promised to sing for us tonight.”

I nodded miserably.

“Go downstairs, then, dear. Connie tells me Becca is in the basement, preparing a bath. She will look after you.”

At least I would be clean when I left tomorrow.

I went down the stairs, the box still clenched under my arm, and found Becca in a cramped basement room at the front of the
house. It had a fireplace in which Becca had lit a fire, a pair of dusty old armchairs and a three-legged stool; a narrow
window looked onto the bottom of the area steps. The window had rusty bars across it, whether to keep thieves out or the girls
in, I wasn’t certain.

But it also had a door in the outside wall that would open into the area. It was, of course, closed. I told myself it would
most like be locked as well, but it did not stop my heart lifting.

Becca was carrying in jugs of water to heat in a large pan over the burning coals; there was a hip bath set before the fire,
and towels hung over a chair arm.

“I know what you have been doing,” she said, pink in the face and reproachful. “I heard you in the hall with Ma Drazel. I
thought you liked us.”

“I do,” I said, taken aback.

“I thought you wanted to stay.”

I hesitated. “I’m sorry, Becca.”

She lowered her voice. “You won’t be able to leave, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Anora won’t let you, that’s all I’m saying. We all tried to leave at first.” She pursed her lips mysteriously, then she pointed
at the water heating in the pan and said in her normal voice: “Don’t scald yourself. There’s cold water left in the jug. Call
me when you’ve finished; I’ll use your water.”

“Thank you,” I said, trying not to stare at the outside door.

Once alone, I rushed to the door and very quietly turned the handle. It would not budge. There was a keyhole beneath it, but
no key. I went to the window and gazed out between the bars. All I could see was the line of steps disappearing upwards from
the waterlogged area to the cobbled street.

I was about to turn away when movement caught my eye. The black cat was at the top of the steps, its white-tipped tail ramrod
stiff. It was Mister Plush, I was sure. It began to trip lightly down, so close I could see its whiskers twitch at the smell
of the turnip tops and other rubbish floating on the scummy water in the area. And then I heard whistling.

I put my hands through the bars and pushed up the bottom pane awkwardly. It was a sash window and so in two parts, like all
the windows in the house. The pane grated up against the top pane; I could only lift it a little way. The cat paused on its
way down the steps and gazed at me with cold, green eyes.

I called softly through the gap, “Mister Plush?” Above, the whistling came closer.

“Mister Plush!” I called again, as enticingly as I could. The cat ignored me, trod delicately down the remaining steps and,
avoiding the water, sprang to the sill, where it arched its back and stretched.

I scarce breathed in case I startled it. A pair of small, scuffed boots came into view.

“Mister Plush! Where are you?”

“Shadow!” I hissed, fearful of Becca hearing in the next room. I struggled to open the window farther, and the cat, alarmed,
jumped back to the steps. Shadow would never see me now.

The boots were tantalizingly close. I put my hands through the gap and waved wildly. But Shadow did not see. In the end it
was the cat he came for, murmuring as he came down the steps and looking all about him, like a thief ready to run: “What yer
doin’, Plushey?”

“Shadow! Help me!”

He straightened with the cat in his arms, the shock on his face replaced by wariness. “Well, if it ain’t Miss Scuff! How you
doin’ in this fine establishment?”

I glared at him, quite unlike the meek girl he had met
before. The cat jumped down from his arms and began to pat gingerly at a floating fish head. “It isn’t fine at all, as well
you know.”

“Why’s that, then, Miss Scuff?” he said, all innocent.

“These girls are kept here to make money for Anora Drazel. They’re prisoners and so am I. It’s your fault I’m here. You got
me in and you’ve got to get me out!”

He looked most discomforted at that, and began to scratch his head. “Don’t rightly know ‘ow I can do that, Miss Scuff.”

“Once I’m with my new employers, I’ll pay you for it,” I said urgently. “But I need your help to escape.”

“I dunno,” he said, shaking his head. “If I gets on the wrong side of Madam Anora through ‘elpin’ you, then that’s me income
gone.”

“I’ve no money to give you now,” I said, angry and frustrated.

He waded through the vegetable peelings and squinted through the window, heedless of the water soaking his boots. “You got
that box, ain’t you?” he said slyly.

I was dismayed. “You want my box?”

“Mr. Butley will pay me good for it, I reckon. I’ll help you if you passes it to me under the winder.”

“Give it to you now?” I stammered. “But can I trust you after last night?”

He had the grace to look ashamed. “I don’t like to think I let you down. I see now yer not that sort of girl at all, Miss
Scuff. But ’ow are we to work yer escape, eh?”

“I don’t care,” I said desperately. “I want to be away by tonight. There’s to be a salon here and I must sing for my supper,
as I said I would. But afterward can you create some commotion so I can slip out through the front door?”

He looked blank. I said as patiently as I was able, “Anora won’t expect you to help the girl you’ve only just brought here
escape. She’ll not suspect you.”

He shrugged, very doubtful. “Maybe.”

“You must think of something!” I said, exasperated. “Come back at nightfall. That’s when the salon begins.”

He appeared aghast at such a demand.

“You will come back?” I insisted, still doubtful of trusting him; but after much frowning consideration he gave a nod.

“Cross me ‘eart, Miss Scuff. I’ll think of somethin’ easy enough, once that box is in me ’ands.”

I hesitated, biting my lip; I knew it was exceedingly foolish to put any faith in him. But I was desperate. In the end, most
reluctantly, I lifted the box onto the sill and saw his face brighten at once. We had to raise the window still farther. Something
tore inside me when the box left my hands and I saw it clutched to Shadow’s filthy, ragged chest. It was my last connection
with Erland, and it was gone.

He raised his hand and gave me a cheeky salute. Then he turned tail and nipped up the steps, whistling to his cat. I didn’t
think I’d ever see him again. I pulled the window down and turned away.

As the evening drew closer, there was great bustle and anticipation in Madam Anora’s household; I watched it all, and bided
my escape.

Anora went from room to room in a rustle of silk and a cloud of heady fragrance. She lit candles, closed shutters, and drew
curtains, though there was still weak daylight outside, clasping her hands together with pleasure as she surveyed each effect.
No longer the suffering invalid, she gave me a warm smile as I approached.

“Ah, Scuff, our new girl!” Her eyes were bright beneath darkly glossy lids. There was rouge along her cheekbones and powder
in her hair; she was dressed in deep purple satin. I thought she looked very handsome for an older woman.

I said, “What should I sing, please, Ma’am?”

Her eyes swept over me and she gave her crooked smile. “It will not matter what you sing, my dear. The gentlemen will be charmed
by you—charmed. Now you must go and change before the light fades.”

Becca was in a fluster when I arrived upstairs. “I shall be in trouble if you are not ready in time.”

I looked at her: her curled hair, blue silk gown, and rouged lips. “I am not used to such finery.”

She shook her head. “Oh, fiddledeedee! Listen to you.”

She looked along the row of dresses in the cupboard with an expert eye and pulled out one of raspberry silk, with lace around
the bodice and elbows. I looked at it in sudden joy:
I’d worn only black and gray before. Then she found buckled shoes and cream satin ribbons. She pulled the gown over my head
and fastened all the little covered buttons at the back. She giggled when I did not know how the skirts should be arranged
upon each other, so that each showed a hint of the one beneath, and how to fold the sash to show the smallness of the waist.

When Becca was finally satisfied, I looked down at myself, a little perturbed. I could not see how my hair looked after all
her artful arranging, though she had left my face unrouged. But I did not feel myself any longer: I too had become a passive,
overdressed puppet.

“I shall call you Sukey now,” said Becca, with a mischievous grin, and she bent to do up the buttons at my elbows. I heard
her give a gasp, then she looked at me, her eyes wide.

In dismay I realized I had forgotten to hide my scar. Without protesting, I let her take my wrist and examine it. Her face
was hidden, but I knew she would realize what it meant.

“Your scar…” She faltered, and seemed to search for what to say. “It’s an old brand mark, isn’t it?”

“I was in a Home once, yes,” I said quickly, “but there is no shame in it. No one needs to know—we can keep it a secret, you
and I.”

“You must never return to the Capital,” she said, breathing fast, “lest you are reclaimed. You must stay here safe with Anora.”
When she looked at me, her face was childish and lost. “It must have been dreadful—in the Home.”

I shrugged to make light of it, my heart beating fast. “I left
the place when I was small.” I tried to keep the urgency out of my voice. “So will you help me, Becca? Will you forget you
ever saw my scar? Say nothing to Anora—to anyone.”