“I suppose not, miss, but I still don’t like our being here. Even with the window closed, it stinks worse than a chamber pot. If you’ll forgive me saying so.”
Charlotte scrunched her nose. She’d noticed the putrid stench the moment they’d turned down Drury Lane. “The place shouldn’t be far from here. I believe we’ll reach it soon.”
The carriage turned onto Parker’s Lane with a bounce brought on by the uneven paving. A startled gasp sprang from Charlotte’s throat in response to the scene before her – of a woman sitting on the doorstep of a dilapidated building. Dressed in filthy rags, she cradled a sobbing infant while two older children, both barefoot, splashed in a nearby puddle. A little way past them, a one-legged man hobbled along with the use of a crutch.
Cast in shades of grey, the street held no resemblance to any Charlotte had seen before. This was much worse than what she’d witnessed in the East End. This was true squalor painted in bleakness and utter despair.
The carriage passed as if blind to the suffering before it rolled to a halt in front of a crooked building built from black timber frame-work. It looked like it was about to fall into the street.
“Goodness,” Charlotte muttered. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised, but really, the tavern did not appear the least bit sturdy. Certainly not for a place renowned for its bare-knuckle fights. Setting her jaw in preparation for what she would find inside, Charlotte turned to Daisy. “You should stay here.”
“And let you go in there alone? I can’t possibly.”
“I absolutely insist on this point.” Charlotte had spent a great deal of time deliberating over it. The last time she’d taken a hackney, the blasted vehicle had driven off before she’d returned. She’d be damned if the same thing would happen again. Least of all in a place such as this.
“It‘s not seemly,” Daisy protested. She jutted her chin toward another building – one located just beyond The Black Swan.
Charlotte considered it for a moment.Amourette’s. She frowned. The name was familiar though she couldn’t quite—
She sucked in a breath as realization struck. This was the brothel where the Earl of Fielding’s new wife had been hiding until he’d accidentally outed her. As the daughter of an accused traitor, their relationship had been mired in scandal until they’d managed to prove her father’s innocence. The incident had served as excellent inspiration for Charlotte’s latest adventure novel.
She stared at the brothel. A lady of her class ought to blush and avert her gaze. Instead, Charlotte absorbed every detail, ferreting it away for later use when she returned home and took her seat at her desk. She’d be much better equipped to describe back alleys and places of ill repute now. Which clearly meant a few extra scenes fromThe Marquess’s Unresolved Mysterieswould have to be re-written.
Pleased with the prospect of being able to improve upon her work, she offered Daisy a wry smile. “Between the two, I wonder that it is the brothel you’re most concerned with.”
“It’s your reputation, miss.”
“Which won’t be any better off if someone I know sees me sitting right here in a carriage located on this very street. Now, Daisy, do try to relax and please make sure the driver waits for me. This could take a while.”
“But—”
Deciding to end the discussion, Charlotte opened the door, stepped down, and swept inside The Black Swan. The interior was surprisingly neat and tidy – not at all what she’d expected. Round tables were placed with an appropriate amount of space between them. Several were occupied by men who clearly worked the docks or breweries and had chosen to come for a bite to eat. They stared at her in baffled silence.
Charlotte cleared her throat. “Gentlemen. I’m looking to employ a trustworthy individual who’s strong and capable of providing me with protection. If you would like to apply for this position, you may come speak with me at your convenience.”
Conscious of having all eyes upon her, Charlotte took a seat at the nearest table and pulled out a small notebook and pencil. Ten minutes later, after receiving a glass of decent wine from a barmaid, she was interviewing a skinny fellow who probably wouldn’t be able to fight off a knife-wielding thief no matter how eager he was to prove his worth.
Charlotte politely turned him away and he thanked her for her time.
“I’m afraid you’re not what I’m looking for,” Charlotte informed the next man who approached her – a mister Robbie Jones. He was a scruffy sort with one tooth missing. Charlotte almost feared the repercussion of being spotted with him more than she feared the danger of venturing out alone.
“’Ow’s that?” Mr. Jones asked. He scratched his ear until one finger disappeared inside it. “Ya said ya need protection and I’m big an’ strong. I’ll make sure no one even looks at ya wrong.”
Charlotte watched him retrieve his finger. He studied it for a moment and then proceeded to wipe it on his trousers. Mr. Jones clearly wouldn’t do, even if he was large enough to frighten away an assailant with nary one glance.
“As much as I appreciate that,” she said while thinking up some way in which to dismiss him without causing too much offense, “I’m not sure you would fare well amid high society.”
“’Igh society?”
“Well, yes. I might require your escort to the occasional soiree and ball.”
“Blimey.” He began fiddling with his other ear. “Don’t think I’d like that. Mingling with toffs aint one of my strengths.”
Charlotte did what she could to hide her amusement and breathed an inward sigh of relief. “I see.”
Mr. Jones gave a respectful nod. “Sorry to ’ave wasted ya time, miss.”
“Don’t be,” Charlotte assured him. He might be scruffy and he might not know not to pick his ears in public, but he was making an effort to be polite and that in itself deserved her appreciation. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Jones.”
