Page 17 of Corpse in the Canal

“I ain’t a skivvy! Why should I clean the floors?”

“You help dirty them, don’t you? Look, none of us are ladies of leisure. If you haven’t yet found an ambition to work toward, you still need to help the way everyone else is helping you. You didn’t even make your own hot chocolate, did you?”

Tulip blushed furiously. “Don’t know how. Nell did it for me. Don’t look at me like that! That cow don’t do nothing but strut around the place giving orders.”

“If you’re referring to Sarah,” Constance said, “she manages the house in my absence. She makes sure no one is here who shouldn’t be, notes who goes where with whom, and keeps everyone safe, including you. It isn’t an easy job—I know because I did it myself for years. If you want to stay here, cooperate with her. If you don’t like the jobs she gives you, suggest something else, but you’re not a lady of leisure, Tulip.”

“Like you?” the girl all but spat. “What do you do?”

“I own the building, among other things. If you want my place, work for it. I did, and not on my back, either. Think about what you want, Tulip. This is your chance, but there are plenty of other poor souls out there who’ll grab it.”

“I ain’t going back to that life,” Tulip muttered.

“Good. Which reminds me, I want to pick your brains about that old life. Ever come across any gentlemen clients?”

“What, rich coves slumming it? One or two round Haymarket and Covent Garden. Picked their pockets before they left.”

“What about a young man called Percival or Percy Harvey?”

“Never ask their names,” she said indifferently.

“He liked to gamble. Fair fellow of twenty-five or so. Very full of himself, I suspect, and all hands and smirks.”

Tulip frowned as though something had struck a chord. “Stingy bastard? That’s why I picked his pocket. His friend might have called him Percy.”

“Who was his friend?”

“No gentleman, that’s for sure.”

“Did he have his own girl?”

“Katy Smiff.”

“Where would I find her?”

“Around Haymarket, maybe.”

“Could you find her for me?”

Tulip straightened her back. “Sure I could.” Then suspicion darkened her eyes once more. “Here, you’re not going to give Katy my place here, are you?”

“Not if you start pulling your weight. I’ll speak to Sarah before I go, tell her you’ve an errand for me. But after that, Tulip, obey Sarah. Look around you at what the others do; think about what you can do. Be one of us.”

*

Be one if us. It was, Constance supposed, hypocritical, when she lived in her own home with her own wonderful husband, servants, wealth. But everyone had to start somewhere.

She thought about that as she climbed wearily into bed. Had she misjudged Tulip when she had taken her to the establishment? Had her mind been too much on her own personal concerns, with how life was changing, to pay enough attention to the nuances of Tulip’s problems? She had found girls on the street who were physically sicker and weaker, but there had been a desperation about Tulip, a loathing of both herself and the men who paid her that had caused Constance to fear a looming and greater tragedy.

Well, the girl had not run out of chances yet. And in the meantime, if she could help find Percy Harvey, that had to be good.

She closed her eyes and hoped Solomon would be home soon. So silly that she needed him beside her now to sleep…

But it seemed she didn’t, for she only half woke when the bed creaked under his weight. She reached for him blindly with a sigh of contentment, and his arms came around her, warm and strong. She snuggled into his body and drifted, smiling, back into slumber.

Chapter Four

“Constance.”