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“I knew you would save me.”
Rose shook her head and grimaced wryly.
“I haven’t saved thee, treacle. I’m afraid you’ve jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. But in truth I don’t know what else to do with you.”
After she was bathed and her old clothes set aside for washing, Nell returned to her little cubbyhole. The clean, soft stuff of her new shift clung to her damp skin and gave off a faint scent of lavender and beeswax. Her wet hair made her head pleasantly cool. The bath had helped ease the aches from her mother’s beating and the scrapes and bruises of the lads’ brutal use of her in the park.
She climbed into the bed. It was far more comfortable than the little straw-stuffed pallet she had slept on for as long as she could remember, and had clean linen sheets, a pillow, and a wool coverlet. She curled into this new luxury and went immediately to sleep.
NELL WOKE TO SEE ROSE COMING IN WITH PART OF A COLD MEAT pie and a mug of small beer.
“Feeling better?”
“Much.”
“Good. Eat, and then we’ll get you dressed.”
Nell ate ravenously. Rose stopped her from wiping her hands and mouth on her shift, giving her a napkin instead.
When Nell had finished eating, Rose laced her into the stays. They were only covered in linen, not silk like Rose’s, but pretty little tabs fluttered around the bottom. The stiff boning made her stand differently and forced her small breasts upward so that their swell showed above the scooping neckline.
“Here,” Rose said, handing her shoes and stockings, “stampers and vampers.” Nell had only worn heavy grey woollen stockings, in the winter, and these were much finer, and a creamy white. The shoes were a revelation, too. Made of brown leather, they had a little heel that pitched her weight forward. She giggled as she took a tentative step. Walking in these would take some getting used to, especially as they were a bit too big for her, and Rose had stuffed the toes with rags.
Rose combed and parted Nell’s hair as gently as she could, though her natural thicket of curls, not improved by having been slept on wet, was in a tangle. Then she scooped something sweet-smelling from a small pot and smoothed it into Nell’s hair. Nell sat breathless as Rose formed ringlets on either side of her head and a fringe of tiny curls on her forehead. Rose viewed her creation.
“Would you like to see?”
Nell skipped along behind Rose to the little room where the chest of clothes was kept and approached the full-length mirror.
It seemed that it was the face of a stranger staring out at Nell. Her hair, usually matted and its colour dulled by dirt to an indifferent reddish brown, had altered into a glowing copper, with a shine and smoothness to the curls that danced around her head. Her skin had lost its greyish pallor, and her lips and cheeks glowed with a rosy flush. Her dark eyebrows and eyelashes stood out in contrast to the clean whiteness of her skin, and her hazel eyes sparkled.
The dress had transformed her into a young woman. The tightly laced body bared her shoulders, emphasized her bosom, and made her slender waist even smaller. The sleeves ended just below her elbows with a frill of lace, and the skirt fell in graceful folds. The blue of the fabric, like the depths of the ocean on a cloudy day, set off her colouring to perfection. Nell turned to Rose, no words coming to express her astonishment and gratitude.
Rose smiled. “Aye, you’ll do.”
Nell turned sharply at the sound of tapping footsteps. Madam Ross swept in, clad for the evening in a gown that alternated stripes of gleaming black and a colour like molten honey, which made Nell think of a tortoiseshell cat.
“Very fetching,” Madam Ross said. “Indeed, much better than I would have thought, given what a wretched little thing she appeared this morning.”
Nell smiled shyly up at Madam Ross.
“Have you eaten, child?”
“Oh, yes, thankee, ma’am.”
“And your sister has told you what you must and must not do? Good. Then we shall very shortly set you loose upon the unsuspecting town.”
She gave a little chuckle and went, her heels clicking on the planks of the floor.
Nell turned to Rose. “What did that mean?”
“I think it means, little sister, that Madam Ross thinks the gents will like you.”
THE AFTERNOON WAS LENGTHENING INTO A WARM SUMMERLIKE evening as Nell followed Rose downstairs and into the large taproom for her first night of her new work. She felt self-conscious and apprehensive. Her initial foray with the red-headed boy had been impulsive, fuelled by hunger and desperation. With Nick and the others, any wariness she might have had was overcome by drink, and in the end she had had no choice. But this felt different. She was very sore from the previous night and wished that she could turn and run. But where was there to go?
The tables were crowded with men, and most of the girls were already present. As Nell watched their darting movements, the swirl and flounce of their brightly colored finery, and listened to their high-pitched raillery and chatter, they reminded her of the exotic songbirds she had seen for sale on the streets. And despite her new apparel, she felt like a small brown wren among them.
Rose went to a prosperous-looking man who called to her, and Nell was left on her own. She wanted to hang back unnoticed. Having spent so much of her childhood in similar surroundings, she drifted to where she felt most at home—near to the bar. The barman, of middle years and with a face as English and unexceptional as a crab apple, had a row of slipware mugs half filled and was topping off another. He looked friendly, Nell thought, as she peered at him, her head barely clearing the top of the bar.
“Do you want me to take these over?” she asked.
The barman gave her a lopsided grin.
“Aye, that’d be a right help,” he nodded. “And who might you be?”
“Nell. I’m Rose’s sister. I’m working here now.”
“Well, Mistress Nell,” he said, “I’m Ned. And since you ask, you can take these to those lads, and bring back the dead men.” He nodded toward four young army officers at a table in a corner and the litter of empty vessels before them. Nell expertly grasped the handles of four full mugs and made her way across the room. One of the lads was just reaching the end of a story and the group broke into laughter as she set the mugs on the table.
“You’re new,” one of them commented as he took up his drink. Four sets of eyes focused on her and it hit Nell with a sudden shock that she was there for their purchase. The first lad’s dark eyes were intent. She flushed and then, annoyed with herself at her shyness, tossed her head and gave the group a cocky smile. She recalled the line that Rose had instructed her to use.
“I’m Nell,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, gentlemen.” She dropped them a curtsy, gathered the empties, and hurried back to the bar. The place grew busier, so she continued to deliver drinks. It gave her something to occupy herself and made her feel less conspicuous, and after a lifetime of her mother harrying her not to be idle, she felt she should be doing something.
Madam Ross bustled into the room an hour or so after Nell had entered. In her wake came a man that Nell guessed must be Jack. He was above average height and muscular in a lean and catlike way, and though he did no more than amble to the bar, casually surveying the room and nodding at an acquaintance or two, he conveyed a sense of coiled danger. Nell could see why Rose had said that his mere presence was usually enough to discourage troublemakers. She remembered, too, what Rose had said about his occasionally requiring the services of one of the girls, and hoped that he would not find her to his liking.
Rose hurried up to Nell and leaned close to speak to her.
“The missus won’t like it if she sees you back here. You’ve got to get out and speak to the men.”
“But what will I say?”
“It doesn’t matter; you’ll think of something. Ned—give me a cup of comfort for Nell, would you? Here—drink this down. It’ll take the edge off and make things easier.”
Nell wrinkled her nose at the brandy but made herself swallow it in a gulp. She coughed, and tears came to her eyes, but almost instantly she felt a warming sensation followed by a pleasant numbness.
“Better?” asked Rose. “Good. Come with me.” She pulled Nell with her to the table where she had been sitting with her gentleman and his friend. “Mr. Green, Mr. Cooper, this is my sister Nell.”
“The usual phrase is ‘one of my cousins,’ is it not?” asked Mr. Cooper with a leer, peering at Nell over spectacles. He was fat and greasy looking and Nell instantly hated him.
“Yes, sir, but I do not speak in jest or in cant. She really is my sister.”
“Pretty little thing,” Mr. Cooper commented to Mr. Green. Nell felt she might have been a doll on a shelf, the way he spoke as if she were not there to hear him. She thought of him touching her and wanted to run, but was stopped from further action by the arrival of Madam Ross at her side.
“I beg your pardon, gentlemen. Come, Nell. A gentleman is asking for you particularly.” She led Nell away and glanced at the table of officers in the corner. “Mr. Cade. He says you’ve met. Take him upstairs. And treat him well. It will do us no harm to be in well with the army lads.”
Nell nodded, her heart suddenly in her throat. The young officer who had first spoken to her was making his way towards her. He was rather handsome, with dark curling hair and a face bronzed by the sun, and he had seemed friendly enough. Nevertheless, she was afraid. The brandy was making the noisy room echo around her and she felt rooted to the floor.
Madam Ross gave Cade a seductive smile and a half bow as he approached. “Here she is, sir. Enjoy yourself, pray.”
Cade returned the bow and the smile.
“Of that I have no doubt, madam.”
With a flutter of her fan, Madam Ross drifted off, and Cade turned and looked down at Nell.
“Lead on, little one.”
His speech was casual, but his eyes were bright and she could sense the heat of his desire as he followed her out of the taproom and up the stairs to her room.
As soon as they were in the door, he shoved her against the wall, plunging one hand down her bodice and the other beneath her skirts, reaching between her legs and exploring her roughly. Nell caught her breath at the suddenness of his assault. Images of the previous night flooded her mind and she fought down panic.
Cade lifted her skirt and grasped her around the waist, thrusting against her backside. Nell could feel his hardness beneath his breeches. He pulled himself away and stood looking at her for a moment, his breathing rapid and his eyes like coals.
“Take your clothes off,” he commanded, pulling off his sword belt. She was frightened, but with his eyes on her she was more frightened not to obey, and she fumbled with the hooks of her bodice and skirt and dropped them to the floor. He ran his hands over her bare shoulders and throat, then unlaced her stays. When they were free he pulled her shift over her head. Standing there in nought but stockings and shoes, Nell felt more naked beneath his gaze than she would have if she had worn nothing.
“Come, wench. Onto your knees.”
So here it was, Nell thought. If this was her chosen trade, this was a part of it, and she had better get used to it than fight it.
She knelt before Cade and unbuttoned his breeches. His cock sprang forth like a living thing. It seemed enormous, and was alarmingly ruddy and purple. Nell took it into her hand and tentatively licked the head. It felt velvety beneath her tongue, and tasted slightly salty, of sweat and something more, but was not vile, as she had feared it might be. Cade moaned and grasped a handful of her hair and thrust himself into her mouth. Nell felt her gorge rise and instinctively pushed him away. She turned from him, gagging and coughing. Fear rose in her. She was a failure at this, too, and would be turned out.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, her eyes fixed on his boots. “Only I haven’t—”
“You haven’t had a prick in your mouth before?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, first time for everything, isn’t there? Come, try again. I won’t hurt you.”
Nell once again took him into her mouth, and he did not push so deep into her throat this time. She did nothing except let him move inside her, but that seemed to be all that was required.
After a few moments, he withdrew and pulled her onto the bed. His breeches around his knees and still wearing his boots, he nudged her thighs apart. Nell remembered the salve that Rose had left with her, but it was too late now.
Her nether parts were bruised, and Cade’s entry hurt. She thought that if last night had been anything to go by, at least this would not last long. She was relieved to find that she was right. After only a few minutes, his thrusts sped up and Nell felt the spasm as he shoved hard and spent within her.
She felt his heartbeat slow along with his breathing before he rolled off her. She was unsure what she should do, but he seemed not to expect anything more. He gave her a brief smile and tousled her hair.
“That’s a good girl.”
Evidently Nell had given satisfaction, for Cade gave her tuppence on his way out, and as she was washing herself, Madam Ross came to tell her not to bother dressing, as two of Cade’s brother officers had paid for her services.
“Here’s Lieutenant Dawkins,” she said. Dawkins, big and blonde, was out of his coat before Madam Ross had shut the door behind her, and without a word he pushed Nell onto the bed and settled himself between her legs.
“Oh, God, but you’re tight,” he moaned in her ear. He moved slowly, lying heavy on top of her. Nell felt that she would smother under his weight and wrenched her head to the side, gasping for breath. Dawkins felt even bigger than Cade inside her, and she wondered how big a man’s pego could be. She thought with alarm of the enormous member of a stallion. Surely no man could be as huge as that?
A fist thundered on the door.
“Hurry up, you poxy bastard. Are you going to take all night about it?”
“Piss off,” Hawkins answered, not interrupting his purposeful stroke.
The owner of the voice, Lieutenant Harper, was waiting outside the door and gave Dawkins a leering grin as they met in the doorway. He was a ruddy-faced young man with sandy red hair who reminded Nell of a fox.
“Give her a good one?” he asked, with a glance at Nell.
“Better than you could manage, mate,” Dawkins returned, and was gone.
Harper came to the edge of the bed where Nell sat naked and squeezed her small breasts in his hands, pinching her nipples until they stood erect and hard.
“Go on, open my breeches,” he said. She obeyed. “Look what a star-gazer I’ve got. And it’s going right down your gullet.”
He pulled Nell to her knees and shoved himself into her mouth, and she fought the urge to gag.
“Suck, wench.”
Nell did as he told her. Her lips hurt, stretched wide, and she wished he would stop. She felt his thrusts grow quicker but was not prepared for the sudden explosion of hot liquid into her mouth, and she choked and struggled as he held her head in place. When he withdrew, his mettle ran down Nell’s chin and onto her bare chest. She scrambled for the pot under the bed and retched into it.
“What, wench, do you not like the taste of my buttermilk?” Harper laughed as he wiped himself with his shirt and buttoned his breeches. “Well, you’ll come to it with use. Still, here’s tuppence for you. You’ll do better next time.”
After Harper had left, Nell wanted nothing more than to sleep. But, afraid of being cast out if she failed to live up to Madam Ross’s expectations, she washed herself, wincing as she did so, dressed, and went back downstairs. Rose beckoned and looked searchingly at her.
“How are you faring?” she asked. “Not too bad?”
“Not too bad,” Nell responded, though she tottered on her feet with exhaustion. “Will it always hurt so much?”
“No,” said Rose. “You’ll grow used to it by and by. Remember the salve.”
Madam Ross was approaching, an approving smile on her powdered face.
“You’ve done well. All the gentlemen were most pleased.” She looked at Nell’s dishevelled hair and bleary eyes.
“That’s enough for your first night. Go to bed now. Those lads and more will be back tomorrow.”
CHAPTER THREE
AS MADAM ROSS HAD PREDICTED, THE DAYS FOLLOWING THE KING’S arrival were busy. The town was crowded with Royalists returning from the years of exile at country homes, with village lads who had come to see the king’s arrival and stayed to look for work, with sailors eager to ship once more under the proud flag of a monarch, and with huge numbers of soldiers glad to be done with fighting and hardship. London was mad with joy. Anything seemed possible now that King Charles was back, and Nell listened enthralled to the gossip and stories about the growing court at Whitehall. “That Barbara Palmer doesn’t trouble to hide from anyone, not even her husband, that she’s the king’s mistress!” Rose exclaimed. “I’ve heard that he spent his first night at the palace in her arms.”
“Of course, he has no wife,” chimed in plump Jane, one of the girls who had taken a special liking to Nell. “But still, he makes mighty bold with his dalliance.”
“And who’s to stop him?” asked Rose. “Harry Killigrew told me that the king has half a dozen bastards. He’s got a boy that was born to him on Jersey afore he and his court moved to France, and he’s brought the lad to live at the palace. Thirteen years old, and the spitting image of his father. Harry says the king so dotes on and dandles him the whisper goes he might be acknowledged a lawful son.”
When she heard bits of news about the king, Nell thought again of his darkly handsome face, jaunty carriage, and booming joyous laugh as he had ridden by, and the electric excitement she had felt when his eyes met hers. It was unbearably tantalizing to know that he was even now somewhere only a few miles away, doing—what? Whatever kings did, though what exactly that might be, she was not sure. Each piece of information she gained only made her long for more, and she added each new fact or story to the growing picture in her head of a life unimaginably different from hers.
Some of what Nell heard about the king and the goings-on at court fitted in some shadowy way with her own new observations about men. They seemed to be ruled by their desires in a way that she was not, and she realised that she held a kind of power over the men whose attention she caught. This was a novelty, and a mystery to be explored.
“They’re like pups, these lads,” laughed Jane, “tumbling all over themselves to get at you, their heads so full of cunt they can’t think of aught else. Mr. Killigrew says his new young actors are so bad, he’s going to hire me a-purpose so they can keep their minds on their work.”
“Actors?” Nell asked.
