Page 70 of The Laudanum Ladies' Society

Jenny got up and walked around the room. She had no desire for her connection to Augusta to be made known, but it was more of a concern for Gwen, who had a husband with a reputation to uphold. Jenny didn’t have anyone, and the only chance she had of mending the quarrel with Miriam was to discover Sally’s whereabouts. She stood in front of the window and stared out, understanding why Gwen had rushed to tell her Mr Parry. She wanted to see Miriam, and it was thinking of how they had met that put a reckless idea into her head.

‘Tell me where to go. I’m going to go into the brothel, assuming it is that, and look for Sally. I can’t rest until I know whether she’s safe, and I know Miriam is very worried about her.’

‘We can’t just walk straight into a brothel, even if we are acquainted with Augusta,’ Gwen said. ‘I only got as far as the parlour and I was escorted there.’

Jenny looked down at herself. ‘I don’t intend to go dressed like this. I think it’s time for a young man to pay a visit.’

Gwen looked at her in confusion, then her eyebrows shot up as she realised Jenny’s meaning.

‘That’s ridiculous,’ she cried. ‘What will you do? Go in and ask for a woman and hope you get the right one?’

‘That is exactly what I’m thinking, actually,’ Jenny admitted. ‘I’m not sure it will work, but I can’t think what else to do. We really do need to get to the bottom of where the girls are.’

‘I won’t let you go alone,’ Gwen said.

Jenny had rather expected more resistance to her idea and Gwen’s quick acceptance was unnerving. Her knees trembled and she locked them, standing tall, and put her hands on her waist, thumbs forward as if she was looping them into a trouser waistband. She’d passed as a man often enough, and doubted that anyone would suspect her of being a woman in such circumstances.

‘You’re right. But you have been there. And if Augusta or Selina happen to spot you, surely they’ll realise something is untoward. I’ll ask Miriam to come with me and wait outside,’ Jenny said. ‘She’s used to spending time observing the streets, and if anyone asks, she can say that she is sketching and show them some proof.’

Gwen agreed that this was a good plan and departed.

It was the following evening before Jenny was able to leave the house without alerting Uncle Conrad to it. She installed him inthe sitting room with his tonic and a composition of tulips and alliums, then changed into her trousers, shirt and waistcoat. She carefully applied a little soot to her eyebrows to make them look thicker and darker, and put on a pair of horn-rimmed glasses she had purchased from a pawnbroker. She added her overcoat, a fringed scarf borrowed from Uncle Conrad’s wardrobe, which she hoped might give her the air of a young man heading to the opera, and her hat. She reached into her pocket and tightened her hand around the whistle that she had placed there the day before. If there was any trouble, she planned to blow it and hopefully receive some sort of aid. She hoped fervently she would not need it.

She met Miriam at the end of the road that Gwen had named. The neighbourhood was down-at-heel but had a friendly air to it. The night was warm, with a mild breeze, and a low smog hugged the ground, muffling the voices that came from the houses and pubs. Young couples, who from their clothing were factory workers, strolled arm in arm, laughing and talking. A dog barked in a house– which started a volley back and forth from a scrawny mix of innumerable breeds, held by a thick rope by a beggar wearing a battered hat and a coat with an oily sheen. Two women walked past on the opposite side of the road. From the brightness of their dresses and the sway of their step, Jenny suspected they were streetwalkers. The beggar obviously thought the same because he whistled and called something in a dialect Jenny didn’t know. The women shouted something back and wiggled their hands suggestively.

Jenny blushed, glad of her disguise, and edged closer to Miriam.

Miriam nodded in greeting. ‘Mr Rosewood, good evening.’

‘Good evening, Miriam, you look very pretty,’ Jenny answered. She offered her arm but Miriam shook her head, so they walked side by side along the pavement until they stoppedopposite the barber’s shop and the discreet doorway with the sign over the coffee-house window.

‘Rooks and Wrens,’ Miriam scoffed. ‘Could there be a more blatant innuendo?’

It was only the second thing she had said to Jenny since they had met and Jenny tried not to leap onto the words as a sign of Miriam softening towards her. They put their heads together and watched the doorway, looking like a couple of sweethearts. In this part of the city it appeared propriety was not as strict since there were plenty of others doing likewise. She thought of poor Gwen, letting guilt eat her for a kiss. She wished Gwen could find the happiness that seemed to be missing from her marriage.

The coffee house was closed, with wooden shutters covering the windows, but a faint light shone through at the middle where the shutters didn’t quite meet. More significantly, the light in the shop next door was glowing.

‘The barber’s is open. Does that strike you as odd?’ Jenny asked.

Miriam wrinkled her nose before answering. ‘Perhaps. Though with the hours that men work, it might have to be so they can use it.’

‘Maybe Gwen was wrong and there is nothing there,’ Jenny sighed. The evidence suggested that, because for the quarter hour of their surveillance so far, nothing had happened.

‘There’s something you should know,’ Miriam said, as the bells from the nearby church pealed out the half hour. ‘I’ve answered an advertisement for a position with a family. The father is an archaeologist, one of those rich men who can afford to indulge in hobbies and call them careers. His wife is as devoted to the subject as he is, and they have a daughter who will be twelve next week.’

She stopped talking and cleared her throat. ‘They intend to return to Egypt in a month’s time and want a companion for the wife who can also tutor the girl in art.’

‘Egypt?’ Jenny’s stomach plummeted.

‘Yes, Egypt. I’ll have the opportunity to work on my own sketches and paintings, and the girl is nice, if a little odd in her manner.’

By the light of the waxing moon Jenny could make out the excitement in Miriam’s eyes, matching that in her voice.

‘That sounds very exciting,’ Jenny said, trying to muster enthusiasm. ‘I envy you.’

‘I haven’t yet been offered the position, and there is no guarantee they’ll engage me, though my references are excellent,’ Miriam said. Her mouth quirked at one side. ‘I just wanted you to know so that when I go, you won’t worry that I’ve been taken somewhere against my will.’

‘That’s very considerate of you.’ Jenny nodded despondently, but was prevented from dwelling on it too deeply because she caught sight of two men strolling along the road. They were young and confident, with braying voices and a bravado in their walk that Jenny had never managed to imitate. They wore frock coats and brightly coloured trousers and waistcoats that looked more suited to a night at the Royal Opera. They laughed and jostled each other, slowing as they neared the door. Jenny put her hand on Miriam’s arm and squeezed, pointing to get Miriam’s attention.