Page 19 of The Spy and the Nightingale
“Perhaps,” Amélie interrupted gently. “However, you should not put too many of your hopes on this possibility. Jeremiah Compton has a share in Les Moineaux, but Guillaume Dubois is who owns it. He is not, of course, who runs it by the law. That is a Mme Lafourcade, she who has charge nominally of his sparrows. Dubois is by his reputation known to many. He follows rules when it benefits him. When it does not?” Amélie held up her hands. “There are those in power who have their own interests to see that some girls remain unregistered or at least off official rolls. Many of these girls of Dubois, he finds them on the streets ofParis, registered already withla police. But there are rumors that some he does not find in this way, that this is Compton’s interest as well. Dubois is one such man for whom thepolice des mœursmight overlook these things. But certainly I cannot say that any such thing has occurred to your sister, even if she has fallen into company with Compton. I very much hope it is not so.”
She could barely speak, lungs devoid of air. Her fragile hopes of the past few hours were being extinguished by ice flooding her veins. “Could I speak to this—Mme Lafourcade, you said?—to find out if my sister is in Les Moineaux?”
“Non, you will not want to speak with her even if such an opportunity might be created. Dubois knows all that occurs in hismaisons,and you do not wish to have such attention put upon yourself. For your safety, if I may be blunt. Mme Lafourcade will be very much in his confidence, to keep her job. She would report to him your conversation. Nor will it be wise for him to know that you are looking for your sister, whether she is in his power or not.” Amélie tapped her lips for a moment. “As I have said, a doctor goes as required by thepolice des mœursevery two weeks to examine each girl. Sometimes these doctors, they are paid to turn a blind eye to these girls who are unregistered but who must for the integrity of the house be free of disease.”
Isobel grasped at new hope, however tenuous, even as her small breakfast rolled uneasily in her stomach. “If the doctors are paid to turn a blind eye, can they also be paid to speak of what they know?”
“Oui, this is the question we must ask. Perhaps, perhaps not,” Amélie mused. “It will depend most entirely on whose pocket they are in. I will think on this and ask some friends of mine what they know of these matters with the houses of Dubois. And if any girls have come in who are matching the description of Lucy.”
“Thank you. Any help at all, any direction I might pursue,I?—”
“Non,” Amélie said sharply before gentling her tone. “You must not pursue this on your own, no matter what it is I discover. These are not moral men. It is not safe for you, especially as a stranger to our city.Non, ma chère.Do not be sad about this. You are no longer alone but are now among friends. I will help you, and Nathaniel has not brought you to me only to forget of your existence. He is a man very good to have on one’s side.”
“I must write out some notes for Nathaniel,” she said weakly. “I’ve been keeping a journal?—”
“Non.You will sleep until you are ready to wake. You have worn down yourself almost to a nothing. These notes of yours, they will keep.”
Shewasstill exhausted, brought more sharply into relief by a warm, comfortable—safe—room and her first good meal in several days. Without further protest, she allowed Amélie to sweep her towards a guest chamber within the private apartment.
“If you have any need of me, pull the bell rope and my maid Louise will report to me your wishes,” Amélie instructed. “This evening or tomorrow morning when Nathaniel returns will be soon enough to put together our heads towards these problems you face. I promise,ma chère, matters will seem less daunting then. But you must rest, for without your strength you will not be able to help your sister when we find her.”
As she fell asleep, she clung to Amélie’s certainty in lieu of her own.
Chapter 6
Isobel awoke to the sounds of quartier de la Porte Saint-Denis beyond L’Orchidée. The house itself and its occupants were mostly quiet at this hour, sleeping.
The light coming through her window heralded another cloudy day, and a chill wind tried to force its way around the sash. For several minutes she burrowed deeper into the soft warmth of the comfortable bed and blankets, but nature’s demands quickly called her forth. She had only just finished when a soft knock came on the door.
“Mademoiselle? Have you woken?”
“I have.” She cracked the door and was confronted by Louise, Amélie’s lady’s maid, holding a pile of folded clothing with a gown draped over her arm.
“I am sent from Mme Laval to tell you that when you are ready for coffee, you are invited to her parlor, and that M.Beaumont will likewise be there.”
Beaumont.The name Nathaniel gave to the harbormaster in Dover.
“She also sends this dress for you to wear, if you would like.”
The gown, Prussian blue, was twilled silk, a fabric far finer than anything she had worn in recent memory. “I would be pleased to wear it.” Along with the dress was a pair of soft slippers, a shift of fine muslin, netted stockings, and stiff back-lacing stays. “Will you assist me in dressing?” She couldn’t manage the stays’ laces herself.
“Oui,Mademoiselle. Madame sent me to do that exactly, if you wish. Madame says if these underthings do not fit you, we will find for you others today. Slippers as well. She has for you several other dresses that need but minor alterations.”
“That is very kind, but I do not wish to be any trouble. Surely I will not need multiple dresses.”
“It is no trouble, Mademoiselle. Madame says we will have you outfitted as a fine Parisian lady so that you are free to enjoy Paris with M.Beaumont.”
To what end?Certainly they would not be traipsing about for pleasure. With some trepidation, she allowed herself to be laced into the stays. They were more comfortable than they looked but far more structured and elaborate than what she wore in her everyday life. The maid helped her into the gown and fastened the ties on the back before departing.
She drew a deep breath. If the working woman’s clothing she had purchased on arrival to Calais was one sort of camouflage, perhaps this would be another.
Stockings and slippers donned, she sought out Amélie. Nathaniel was near the window, unbuttoning his greatcoat, as Amélie poured coffee.
“Ah,ma chère, I was hoping you would soon join us. Nathaniel has only just arrived, bringing inside with him the cold. Here, allow me to pour for you some coffee. Was your sleep pleasant?”
“It was, thank you. I do not believe I woke even once.”
“You are looking very much more rested today, if I may comment on this. That dress is quite a lovely color for you.”
