Page 18 of The Laudanum Ladies' Society

‘Thank you.’ Miriam closed the book and accepted the compliment matter-of-factly. ‘Now, you know what I was doing out. Tell me about yourself. You aren’t the first to cross-dress, though most I’ve met have beenen-femmeand spend their time in the molly houses, but from the way you jumped as if you’d been shot when I asked you, I don’t think you were looking for a quick prigging.’

‘I was just walking,’ Jenny said, aware of how boring it sounded. She wasn’t entirely sure what her new friend was talking about, but had a suspicion it wasn’t anything she’d discuss in Uncle Conrad’s hearing. ‘I go to theatres or talks, but tonight there was nothing that took my fancy, so I just followed my feet.’

‘And your husband doesn’t mind you going out alone at this hour?’ Miss Sandler asked.

‘I don’t have a husband,’ Jenny answered. She dropped her eyes, feeling that admitting the fact was somehow shameful, not because it suggested she was an old maid but because of the inference that there were irregular reasons for her state.

‘And what of your husband, Miriam?’ she asked. ‘Does he mind you going out sketching at night?’

‘I have no husband. That is something else we have in common.’ Miriam reached her hand across the table and covered Jenny’s. ‘As well as our enjoyment of walking through the streets at night for our own amusement.’

Her touch felt like a brand of iron and it sent warm flickers up Jenny’s arm, raising the hairs that covered it. She stiffened and the tension in her muscles must have been apparent because Miriam gave a gentle cough.

‘There’s no need to look so concerned,’ she said, smiling into Jenny’s eyes. ‘Anyone watching would only see a couple of sweethearts holding hands and we are far from alone in doing that in this place. Scruples are a little bit less restrictive here, you’ll find.’

‘But we aren’t a couple of sweethearts,’ Jenny said. ‘And I’m not a man.’

‘I know, and I’m glad you’re not. Though you make a very handsome gentleman.’

Jenny dropped her eyes, uncertain why the compliment touched her so deeply.

‘Do you live alone, or with a companion or relatives?’ Miriam asked. She ran her thumb underneath Jenny’s wrist and round to her palm, rubbing it in a slow circle. Jenny couldn’t take her eyes from their hands. Her throat tightened with worry that to look away might mean Miriam stopped, coupled with an awareness that if a man behaved in such a way it would be completely improper and by logical extension, the same should apply to a woman.

‘I live with my uncle. He fancies himself as an artist, too, though his subjects are natural objects.’

Mentioning her uncle made her anxious. She really should be going home, but the pub had such a welcoming atmosphere, and Miriam was still holding her hand.

‘And do you paint also?’ Miriam asked.

‘Me? No. I do nothing.’

Jenny reached for her tankard and took a swig of the porter. It was disgusting but she swallowed it and took another. As it travelled down her belly, it brought with it a taste of failure, of boredom, of the desperate dullness of her life. How small her walls were. She saw herself through Miriam’s eyes and was overcome with the urge to break free of them and soar.

‘I live a dull, respectable life keeping my uncle’s house and entertaining the wives of his acquaintances and associates.’

‘When you aren’t visiting the theatres dressed in breeches,’ Miriam said with a laugh.

Jenny grinned. ‘That’s true. Why am I telling you all this?’

‘I don’t know,’ Miriam said smiling shyly. It was a contrast to the brazen smile she had given when she had thought that Jenny was a man, and it suited her better. ‘I never share confidences. I very rarely have anyone that I can share them with but I feel?—’

She stopped.

‘I’m not really sure what I’m feeling, other than that I’d like to get to know you better.’

A flicker of excitement shot down Jenny’s spine and continued until it settled between her thighs. ‘I feel that I would like to get to know you better, too.’

They held each other’s gaze and sat in silence, while at the other end of the pub, the pianist began a new song. For a moment, it was peaceful and happy. Then, regretfully, Jenny moved her hand.

‘I have to go, I’m afraid. My uncle doesn’t know that I have left the house, of course. He thinks I’m in my room with aheadache. It’s unlikely that he will notice my absence, but I can’t risk it.’

‘I understand, but that’s a pity,’ Miriam said. ‘I feel as if we were just beginning to get to know each other.’

‘So do I. Perhaps I could meet you again,’ Jenny asked hesitantly.

‘I’d like that. Why don’t you walk me home or as close as you can go without going out of your way?’ Miriam suggested.

They left side by side, and outside, Miriam looped her hand through Jenny’s arm. It wasn’t the affectionate closeness that she had shared with her other companion, but excitement surged within Jenny. They were evenly matched in height, but Miriam tilted her head back to look up at Jenny.