Not Less Than Gods (8 page)

“Let us, then, set aside all unnecessary pretense. You must understand, sirs, that not all of my customers are members of the Gentlemen’s Speculative Society, for even an inner circle has inner circles within itself; and even Members of Parliament have been known to contract the nastiest cases of the clap imaginable. But they did not contract them in
my
establishment. Have you dined, my dears?”

“We have not, ma’am,” Ludbridge replied. “I think a little light refreshment would be well received.”

“A pleasure, sir.” She rose to her feet and, without the aid of her cane, went straight to a side table where sat a device of some kind, brass and black wax adorned with gold. A brass trumpet was attached to it by a
cord; without any feeling about she picked it up. Instead of lifting it to her ear, as they half expected, she spoke into it.

“The cold buffet for four, please, and two bottles of champagne.”

“She can see!” blurted Hobson.

“Yes, sir, I see indeed,” replied Mrs. Corvey, replacing the speaking-horn in its cradle. “Though not with human eyes, I must confess.” She returned to her seat, composedly arranging the folds of her gown. Staring at her, they noticed now the glint of steel and crystal behind her goggles.

“Shall I tell you my story, as we wait? I was born in the workhouse, and purchased by a manufacturer of pins when I was five years of age. The work requires small hands and keen eyesight, you see. One must cut tiny lengths of wire and file one end to a point, and then hammer the other end into a suitably broad head.

“There is a considerable demand for pins, as you might imagine, and so I worked from five o’clock in the morning until nine o’clock at night, by candlelight when daylight was unavailable. By the time I was twelve I was quite blind.

“So of course I was then sold into the only work I was fit for. I worked there as one of their specialty girls until I was seventeen, I believe, and then a gentleman from your organization approached me with quite a different proposition. I entered the Society’s service with a will, and submitted myself for experimental surgery; now I wear goggles to conceal the result, as my appearance is rather startling.”

“I am so sorry to hear it, ma’am,” said Pengrove.

“My choice,” Mrs. Corvey replied, with a thin smile. “The lack of cosmetic eyes provided a certain protection from unwanted attentions, when I was still in danger of receiving any. There is also an advantage to
seeming
blind; for example, Members of Parliament are reassured to imagine that the proprietress of their favorite house would be unable to identify their faces in a court of law.”

At this point there was a gentle chime and one of the panels in the wall slid open, to admit four parlor maids, respectably clad in black.
Two bore platters laden with sandwiches and savories; one bore a pair of ice-buckets containing bottles of champagne, and one bore four glasses on a tray.

“Now then!” said Mrs. Corvey. “My story wasn’t a jolly one, I fear; I hope you gentlemen will oblige me by putting it from your minds and dining heartily, before we begin the introductions.”

There followed a pleasant interlude in which champagne and sandwiches were handed round, and the Residentials were invited to relate the story of the challenge they had faced, which they did with a great deal of hilarity and mutual interruption. After the savories, water ices were served, lemon and ratafia flavored, amusingly molded to resemble asparagus stalks. The maids bore away the dishes and brought cigars to offer; and when the pleasant fragrance of tobacco drifted in blue clouds up to the ventilation screens, Mrs. Corvey said:

“Now then, sirs, I expect you’re ready to meet the ladies.”

“Yes please,” said Pengrove, who had made a few exploratorily suggestive remarks to the maids and been ignored.

“A word, first,” said Ludbridge, as he exhaled a plume of smoke. “Don’t imagine these are common whores, gentlemen. They’ve been trained as carefully as you have, and to the same ends. They merely employ different means.”

“A lady
may
hold a pistol to a statesman’s head and demand to know his plans for war or peace, but there are far more subtle and effective means of persuading him to speak,” said Mrs. Corvey.

“D’you begin to understand?” Ludbridge turned his cheroot in his fingertips. “There’s a reason this place is called what it is. These are your equals, gentlemen.”

“I am certain they fully comprehend,” said Mrs. Corvey graciously. “And there is one other thing I should mention, my dears: you will not choose from amongst my young ladies. They will choose you, as they are extending a professional courtesy. Ah! They approach.”

The rustle of skirts was heard from beyond a curtain, and the ladies of Nell Gwynne’s came all together into the room.

One, at least, did not wear skirts; she wore male attire, with her
cropped hair combed back sleek, and smoked her own cheroot. One wore a lady’s equestrienne habit, and carried a riding crop. One was gowned in severe respectable gray, bespectacled, tapping a birch rod into her palm thoughtfully as she considered the gentlemen. Three were indistinguishable from the most well-bred society debutantes, perfectly turned out in the latest fashion in colors to suit their respective blonde, brunette and auburn hair. Another seemed an intentional parody of a fallen woman, her mouth and gown a startling red, her cheeks heavily rouged, kohl rimming her eyes.

“So these are the new boys, are they?” she remarked. Her accent was cut-crystal refined, would not have seemed out of place in Belgravia. The Residentials, who had scrambled to their feet, stared mute.

“They are. Gentlemen, permit me to introduce Herbertina Lovelock, Mrs. Otley, Miss Rendlesham, the Misses Devere, and Lady Beatrice. Girls, this is Mr. Charles Augustus Pengrove, Mr. John Frederick Hobson, and Mr. Edward Alton Bell-Fairfax.”

“Stop a bit,” said Pengrove. “How did you learn our Christian names?”

“I know a good many things you wouldn’t expect,” replied Mrs. Corvey. “Useful in my line of work, isn’t it? You may have at them, girls.”

Mrs. Otley, she of the riding crop, stepped forward and tapped Hobson on the chest. “This looks like a sturdy little mount. I wonder if he can gallop for long distances, or is he only fit to bear burdens?”

Hobson blushed. “I—er—I should be delighted to go for a ride, madam.”

“Tch! I’ll do the riding, my dear. Come along.” She gave him a swat with the riding crop and led him from the room to chambers beyond. Miss Rendlesham struck Pengrove lightly with her birch rod.

“This one looks like a troublemaker, to me,” she said. “I daresay you speak out of turn, don’t you, boy?”

“I do!” said Pengrove, wide-eyed. “Dreadfully! My parents despair over my impertinent behavior! I’m perfectly awful, if you want the truth!”

“Oh, I do,” said Miss Rendlesham. “More truth than you can imagine. Step along now, and don’t dawdle, or I shall become extremely vexed with you.” Grasping him by the ear, she led him out. Before the sound
of their footsteps faded, those in the parlor heard the swish and smack of the birch, and a small yelp.

“And that leaves this one.” Lady Beatrice, the one gowned in scarlet, circled Edward consideringly. “Dear me! How perfectly immense he is. I shouldn’t wonder if it will take several of us to subdue him. What do you think, ladies?”

“Four or five of us at least!” cried the Misses Devere.

“Oh, certainly,” said Herbertina Lovelock.

“Your servant, dear ladies,” said Edward with a grin. “Entirely at your disposal, and I do hope I won’t disappoint. But surely one of you can be spared for our poor mentor Ludbridge?”

“No, I’m remaining here,” said Ludbridge placidly. He blew a smoke ring and put his hand upon Mrs. Corvey’s. “Mine hostess is renowned for her excellent conversation.” She gave him a fond look.

“I believe I may truly say that I am happy in my chosen employment,” said Pengrove, where he sprawled on a divan in the inner parlor.

“I, too,” said Bell-Fairfax, from the mound of cushions beside the fire. Hobson, who still wore a bit in his mouth, made a sound of contented agreement. Lady Beatrice rose on her elbow from where she reclined beside Bell-Fairfax and took a thoughtful pull from the mouthpiece of a hookah.

“Let’s play a game, shall we?” she said, through clouds of smoke.

“Oh, do let’s,” said the blonde Miss Devere, clapping her hands.

“What shall we play?” said Herbertina, sitting pertly upright.

“I have a suggestion,” said Pengrove. Miss Rendlesham swatted him lightly with her birch.

“
You
don’t choose, silly. We shall choose. I propose . . . Utter Truth!”

“Utter Truth! Yes!” Mrs. Otley stroked Hobson between the eyes with the butt of her riding crop. Pengrove snickered.

“I don’t believe I know the rules.”

“They are quite simple,” said Lady Beatrice. “We shall appoint a topic. Each one of you gentlemen must, in turn, speak on the chosen
subject for a full minute. You must be utterly truthful, and if we suspect that you are not, we ladies have full license to punish you severely.”

“But I’m an inveterate liar,” cried Pengrove. Hobson made a sound eloquently affirming that he was an inveterate liar too. Bell-Fairfax narrowed his eyes, but smiled and slipped his arm around the waist of the red-haired Miss Devere.

“No gentleman would refuse a lady’s challenge. Utter Truth it is! Let’s play to win, shall we? Delightful as severe punishment may be, in this paradise.”

“And we shall start with my Hobby-horse,” said Mrs. Otley, unfastening the bit and removing it from between Hobson’s teeth.

“Give him some champagne!” Herbertina went across the carpet on her knees and set a full glass to Hobson’s lips. He drank thirstily.

“Ahh! Thank you. Ready and willing, ladies!”

“The topic is ‘Kisses,’ ” said Lady Beatrice. “You are to give us the name of each lady you have ever kissed, in chronological order, and the reason you did so.”

Pengrove and Bell-Fairfax chortled. Hobson scratched his head.

“Mothers, grandmothers, sisters and aunts don’t count, I hope?”

“I think not,” said Lady Beatrice. “Cousins, however, do.”

“Here we go—” Herbertina sorted through the heap of her clothing and withdrew a pocket watch. Gazing at its face intently, she raised one finger in the air. “Aannd—go!”

“Alice Abbott,” said Hobson promptly. “Barmaid at the Three Crowns, in the village outside my school. I’d been drinking lemonade and gin and gotten squiffy. She told me I was sweet and put out her lips for me to kiss. Charlotte Engadine, daughter of my mother’s friend, because we were briefly engaged. Louise—Louise somebody, don’t know her surname, but she was French and I was in France drinking champagne and that was all the reason I needed. Her gown was striped red and white, just like cherries and cream. Mary Holborn. She lived across the landing and mended my waistcoat when I tore it coming home squiffed. I kissed her cheek to thank her. And Mrs. Otley, of course, because—well, it was what we came here to do.”

He fell silent. “That’s all?” said Lady Beatrice.

“Yes.”

“I put it to you, ladies: has he spoken Utter Truth?”

The women looked from one to another. “Ye-es,” said Mrs. Otley. “I believe he has.”

“I agree. He is acquitted.” Lady Beatrice pointed like an accusatory specter at Pengrove. “Now, you, sir! Speak at once!”

Herbertina held up her watch, and Pengrove said in a breathless voice: “Arabella Minton, cousin, I was eleven and she was thirteen and she said she’d teach me a new game if we went out behind the hedge. Violet, er, never knew her last name, but she was my mother’s between-stairs maid. Because, she looked so fetching with her cheeks all red from beating the carpet. Mother saw me and made me apologize. Georgina Osgood, we were at a dance and went out on the terrace to get cool and she said if I was any sort of man I’d kiss her. Didn’t dance with me the rest of the evening. Bridie Wiggan, my charwoman, because—because she was fairly young and willing and I’d just had word my brother had died in Kabul and, and coupling with a woman seemed to make as much sense as anything just then. I gave her a five-pound note afterward. And Miss Rendlesham, because she told me to, but I was so very, very,
very
grateful to be told. And that’s all.”

“Truly?” said Lady Beatrice.

“Indeed, ma’am.”

“Your verdict, ladies?”

“He told the truth,” said Miss Rendlesham, and there was a general chorus of agreement.

“And our judgment is for acquittal,” said Lady Beatrice. “Fortunate mortal! And now—” She turned and looked over her shoulder at Bell-Fairfax. “It is your turn. Utter Truth, and nothing else, sir.”

Edward smiled. He cleared his throat, coughed into his fist and said, “Mind the watch.”

“Go!”

“Doris, Bess, Janet and Mary, surnames unknown, barmaids at the Pinford Arms, because they permitted it. One Miss Grigg, of Portsmouth,
because she offered and I didn’t know when I’d get the chance again. Five whores in the souk of entertainments in Constantinople, whose names I never learned, because it pleased me. Edith Javier of Gibraltar, because she offered. Three whores in the souk at Alexandria, whose names I never learned either, for reasons previously given. Two whores at Hong Kong Island, names unknown, reason as before. Seven whores, names unknown, in the bazaar at Bombay, reason as before. Omolara, a negress of Benin, because she offered. Kate, Audrey and Susan, last names unknown, barmaids at the Turk’s Head in Bristol, because they permitted it. The Misses Devere—excuse me, I don’t know your Christian names, ladies—because they offered. Herbertina Lovelock, because she offered, if somewhat perversely. Lady Beatrice, surname unknown, because she offered.”

“Oh, you bloody liar!” screamed Pengrove.

“You must be an absolute collection of venereal diseases!” said Hobson. Bell-Fairfax merely shook his head.

“Ladies, have I any least trace of the clap evident in my person?”

“He has not,” said Lady Beatrice. She gave Bell-Fairfax a curious stern look, somewhat assessing. “Nor is it my opinion that he has lied.”

“I certainly wouldn’t have said he lied,” agreed the brunette Miss Devere. “Not after the events of the last two hours.” Bell-Fairfax smirked.